


As the Romans Do

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Dirty Talk, Drinking Games, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grace Sex, Gratuitous Profanity, Light Bondage, Lots of alcohol, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Ocean Sex, Panty Kink, Popsicles, Rimming, Shower Sex, Spanking, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Tattoos, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Wing Kink, basically just a lot of sex, but not really abuse, casturbation, kinky destiel, playground sex, vanilla sabriel, very very light dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 64,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should duck under the big waves. Pass right over you instead of knocking you over.”</p><p>Cas looked uncertain, shifting as small waves splashed against his stomach. He held out his hand. “Would you do it with me?”</p><p>A hundred innuendos flashed across Dean’s brain, followed by another hundred sarcastic chick flick moments retorts, but he looked at Castiel standing in front of him with the grey-green Atlantic licking at his skin and the moon reflected in those unearthly eyes and the sea breeze doing things to that stupid fucking hair, and he was privately sure in that moment that if Cas asked him to rebuild the Byzantine Empire and give it to him in a shoebox he’d be booking a flight to fucking Istanbul tomorrow.</p><p>Instead he reached out and grabbed Cas’ hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (a) First SPN fic; (b) first fanfic period; (c) first piece of fiction of any genre I've actually finished at all. So I'm a little nervous, but enjoy!
> 
> \--
> 
> Predominantly Destiel, but like 70/30 Destiel/Sabriel, with some of all four of 'em mixed in (er, no, not _together_ ). Not super-much chapter-to-chapter continuity and I am always open to suggestions or prompts for chapters.
> 
> \--
> 
> Fair warning: this whole thing spiraled way out of control and I'm basically using it as a way to practice different styles. So there will be boatloads of porn and humor and sappiness and hopefully decent characterization, but basically absofuckinglutely zilch in the way of plot.
> 
> And I am always and eternally grateful for any feedback/criticism as to what works or doesn't work!
> 
> \--
> 
> Added ratings in the notes for individual chapters. Since there's basically no continuity (or, y'know, plot), there's no reason not to skip anything you don't wanna read, so. *shrug*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's never seen the ocean and Cas can't swim. Dean insists they still partake in the great drunk-at-midnight-on-the-beach tradition of taking off their clothes and jumping in the water. And that's when things got weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

“I still do not understand what the point would be,” Cas said again.

“Dude, we’re in Florida. On the beach. In summer. I think we’re, like, contractually-obligated to get drunk and jump in the ocean.” Dean didn’t bother telling himself it wasn’t also an extremely convenient excuse to ogle Cas wet and nearly naked.

“I was unaware we had a contract.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He set the mostly-empty whiskey bottle in the sand and began peeling his t-shirt over his head.

“And I don’t know how to swim,” Cas added, frowning slightly.

That stopped Dean. “Dude, you’re a fuckin’ _angel_. Weren’t you around when your dad pissed out this shit?”

“My father did not --” 

Dean interrupted him before his fingers could quirk into air quotes. “Look, I got you. And we don’t have to go that far out anyway. It’s just… I’ve never seen the ocean before. Please?” he wheedled.

Cas sighed and gave in, shrugging off his trench coat and folding it in a neat square. Dean grinned at him. “Plus Sammy’ll be pissed he missed out. Serve him right for being a bitch and staying in the motel.”

They discarded the rest of their clothes, Cas’ in a meticulous pile on his coat and Dean’s strewn across the sand, until they were both down to their boxers. Cas took a few uncertain steps towards the water.

Dean Winchester did not consider himself a romantic man. Hell, he didn’t even consider himself a particularly gay man, though he’d gotten over questioning his sexual identity after a few memorable blowjobs in high school. But the sight of the angel silhouetted in the moonlight against the endless waves short-circuited his brain for a moment, and he began to wonder if this was actually a good idea.

He shook himself and caught up to Castiel, who was standing in ankle-deep water and toeing thoughtfully at the wet sand, watching it envelop his foot.

“The sensation is very strange,” said Cas. “Like I’m being swallowed."

 _For fuck’s sake_ , thought Dean, as his imagination took off running. He was relatively sure that Cas was oblivious to his little crush -- and all crushes, for that matter -- but that made him no less apt to accidentally torture Dean.

He shook his head and splashed further in until the water was at his chest. He turned around to check on Cas, who was making his way through the shallows with slow, careful movements -- then let out what could only be called a shriek when a wave crashed into his back. Cas looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut it,” Dean said politely, glad Sam wasn’t there to catalogue that sound in his giant brain. To hide his embarrassment, he took a deep breath and ducked under the next wave. A few moments later he broke through the surface, sputtering, and wiped the saltwater from his eyes. 

He turned back to Cas, grinning. Cas had stopped in waist-deep water and was staring at Dean intently, his head tilted.

“What?” Dean said, still smiling. “Come on, it’s fuckin’ amazing.”

“You’re very beautiful,” said Cas matter-of-factly.

Something twisted in Dean’s stomach. He was used to Cas’ utter lack of filter -- found it endearing, even, though he’d never quit giving him shit about it -- and he knew Cas was just stating a fact; it had no more depth to it than saying “the ocean is cold” or “pie is the greatest thing in the world”. That knowledge did nothing to quench the heat spreading down his neck.

“Dude, this is already a chick flick’s wet dream,” he said with a slightly forced laugh. “Don’t make it worse.” 

The angel gave him a look -- the one that occasionally made Dean wonder if Cas understood more than he let on about human nature -- and trudged forward to where Dean stood, pausing to brace himself for each wave.

“You OK?” asked Dean, reaching out a hand as a bigger wave knocked Castiel off-balance. It was strange to see the angel floundering in the water, instead of his usual precise movements.

“Yes. It’s disconcerting,” he admitted, skimming his hand over the surface, “but not unpleasant.”

“You should duck under the big waves. Pass right over you instead of knocking you over.”

Cas looked uncertain, shifting as small waves splashed against his stomach. He held out his hand. “Would you do it with me?”

A hundred innuendos flashed across Dean’s brain, followed by another hundred sarcastic _chick flick moments_ retorts, but he looked at Castiel standing in front of him with the grey-green Atlantic licking at his skin and the moon reflected in those unearthly eyes and the sea breeze doing things to that stupid fucking hair, and he was privately sure in that moment that if Cas asked him to rebuild the Byzantine Empire and give it to him in a shoebox he’d be booking a flight to fucking Istanbul tomorrow.

Instead he reached out and grabbed Cas’ hand.

“Hold your breath and close your eyes before you duck,” he instructed. “Hold your nose, too.”

“Hold my --?”

Dean rolled his eyes and demonstrated, pinching his nostrils with his free hand. Cas copied the gesture.

“Keeps the saltwater from gettin’ in there. Not fun.”

Cas nodded. They turned and faced out to sea, letting small waves lap against them, until Dean pointed out a wave in the distance, about a foot tall and gaining strength.

“Ready?” Dean asked, gripping Castiel’s hand as it drew closer. “On three -- just let yourself fall. One -- two --” He dropped his legs and tugged the angel’s arm. He felt Cas duck below the water just before the wave crashed overhead.

They resurfaced a few seconds later. Dean was gasping and giggling like a child -- and again thanking the stars that Sam wasn’t there to hear it. He turned to Cas and the laughter died in his throat. The angel’s eyes were closed and there was an actual, honest-to-God _grin_ on his face, and Dean was suddenly really fucking glad his lower half was in cold water. He let go of Castiel’s hand abruptly.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “better than gettin’ bitch-slapped with a wall of water, huh?”

“Yes, Dean,” said Castiel, his features resolving themselves back into neutrality, but a small smile remained playing around his mouth. “I believe I enjoyed that.”

Dean splashed water at him, and to his astonishment Cas splashed back, and instantly a splash war worthy of seventh-grade pool parties erupted. For a few minutes the bleak reality of their lives faded to background noise and they forgot their world filled with demons and fallen angels and dead family, a world in which death was not so much an inevitability but a daily likelihood, and maybe wasn’t so final after all. Dean had never seen that open, relaxed look on Cas’ face -- hell, he couldn’t really remember the last time he felt it on his own face -- and he had just reached down to try to escalate the water fight with a handful of sand when a huge wave pummeled them and they both went somersaulting under the water.

Dean popped his head up, throat burning with salt.

“Cas?” he called, scanning the unbroken surface. “Cas!”

A ball of white-hot panic was beginning to twist in his bones when he heard the water a few yards behind him churn. He whipped around and as soon as he saw the dark hair emerge from the water he dove towards him, half-running and half-swimming. He stopped when he saw Cas’ face.

Dean sort of forgot Castiel was an angel fairly frequently, really. He knew it consciously, of course, but he found it hard to reconcile the occasional sarcasm, the puppy-dog innocence and impassive face with _angel_. So when he saw the look of pure, absolute joy on Cas’ face, it felt a bit like getting punched in the stomach.

And then Cas’ wings unfurled.

Dean had never seen them, _really_ seen them, only shadows and silhouettes, and even now they nearly blended with the sky, dripping saltwater like tears, and Cas was so still and his eyes lowered and his mouth and those fucking --

Dean kissed him.

It would not have been a lie to say that Dean had been fine with how they were. He acknowledged his attraction but he was fine with it, kind of enjoyed it, even if it never came to fruition. He wasn’t hurting for sex and it made the weird home life they’d all established a little more fun. But then Castiel rose out of water, and the panic, and the look on his face, and the wings…

…and oh shit, Cas wasn’t kissing him back. Dean pulled back, and the angel was looking at him with wide eyes, folding his wings back in, and -- oh, fuck.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Fuck, sorry, sorry, I --” 

He pulled back and started shuffling blindly towards the shore before a hand reached out and caught his wrist.

“Dean,” said Cas, and of course his voice betrayed nothing. “Dean.”

Dean spun back towards Cas and suddenly hated him for his stupid unreadable voice, and he started to tug his hand away, but Cas gripped him tight.

“No,” he growled. “I want this.”

Cold seawater wasn’t enough to diffuse Dean’s reaction to that, not even close. Whiskey and nerves and eddies of lust chased each other through his veins. The two stood frozen an arm’s length apart, Castiel’s fingers around Dean’s wrist the only point of contact. He stared at Castiel, into that unfathomable face.

“You…”

Cas’ other hand slowly came up to lock around Dean’s free one, and holy shit, he was dying again, he had to be dying, but this was so much better than the other times. He thrummed with tension, with sensation: the parabolic roar of the ocean in his ears, the salt in his nose and mouth, the impossible depth of Castiel’s eyes and the sear of the fingers around his wrists.

Something snapped and they were on each other in a tangle of limbs and slippery skin, and Dean felt the sensory overload contract to lips and tongue and teeth. The waves manhandled them and they stumbled and choked and licked the salt from each other’s skin.

A wave broke over them and they came up gasping. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and sucked at his throat and Dean groaned, then pushed him off. Cas blinked.

“Not fuckin’ you in the ocean, Cas,” he got out and turned towards the shoreline, then stopped because Cas’ breath was in his ear and suddenly fucking in the ocean seemed like an absolutely brilliant idea, especially when Castiel’s fingers were tracing down his ribs, but --

“No. Fuck. Jesus, fuck, come _on_ \-- weren’t you the one who didn’t want to get into the water?”

“I find myself enjoying it.”

The angel’s eyes remained inscrutable but the corners of his mouth were twitching. 

“Did you seriously just grow a sense of humor, you dickhead?”

“We can leave if you want, Dean.” His mouth wandered across Dean's neck -- where the fuck did he learn to do this?

Dean shifted suddenly into overdrive. “Yeah, I fuckin’ well want,” he said, biting at Castiel’s lip before tugging him towards the shore.

And oh, God, this was the best thing ever, rolling over on the sand until Castiel was underneath him. He caught at Cas' wrists and dragged them through the sand, pinning them over his head. He licked the water off collarbones and kissed until the salt burned under his mouth and --

Shit.

The angel was a virgin, Dean was fairly sure, and as hot as it would be to seduce him on the beach -- and his brain shorted out at the idea, every time their breath sucked in with the tide -- 

But the sand scraped against his knees, and he licked across angry red marks in Cas’ skin as he knelt over him. 

“Not here,” he managed.

Cas whined, fucking _whined_ , and Dean bit down on his shoulder, and in Dean’s personal opinion he should be made a goddamn saint for resisting the urge to find out right there what other noises Cas could make. They both still had their soaked boxers on, and when Castiel arched up Dean decided he’d settle for knighthood and ground against him before standing up, pulling at Cas’ hands.

“Motel’s like two blocks away,” he said. “Not gonna… not gettin’ sand all up everywhere.” He grabbed their clothes and started to walk down the beach when Cas pulled him back, rolling his eyes, and suddenly they were in the bathroom of their motel room.

“Jesus, Cas,” said Dean. “Two blocks. Patient, huh?”

“No,” said Castiel. “Not patient.” He pulled Dean into the shower, turning on the taps and raking their boxers down with the same motion. It should have been unnerving but Cas never acted without purpose, and the deliberate movement was somehow calming.

Dean leaned his head against the cool tile and tried to gather himself. Making out drunk in the ocean was one thing, not that it wasn’t possibly (definitely) the hottest thing in the entire goddamn universe, but standing there in the harsh yellow light and watching Cas bend down testing the water temperature, everything seemed a lot more _real_.

“Cas,” he finally managed. “Are you sure -- we don’t -- I mean, I’m --”

Castiel straightened up, apparently satisfied with the water, and flipped the shower on. He turned to Dean, doing that inexplicably sexy head tilt again.

“You talk too much,” he said, and suddenly Dean was getting kissed so hard his knees went weak. And what the hell, thought Dean distantly, in the tiny part of his mind that wasn’t focused intensely on Castiel’s tongue, shouldn’t _he_ be the one who has a clue what the fuck he’s doing here? Then Cas slid his mouth to Dean’s neck, tugging them both back and under the spray, and Dean decided that if Cas’ heavenly powers included being some kind of angelic sex god, he’s pretty on board with that.

“Cas,” he gasped, digging his fingertips into those perfect hipbones. “Cas, Cas, I want --” 

Cas brought his hands up to the sides of Dean’s neck, running along his jawline, and brushed his lips across his ear.

“Tell me what you want, Dean,” he murmured, and his voice shot straight to Dean’s dick, do not fucking pass Go, do not collect $200.

“You,” he hissed. “Want you, want you, always wanted you. Wanted to -- to taste you, touch you -- fuck, Cas --”

“To fuck me?” he said, and Dean could _hear_ the smirk in his voice, the smug asshole, and Dean decided it was time to wrest back some control. He grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back against the tile.

“Yes,” he growled, grinding his thigh between Cas’ legs, and hummed in satisfaction when the angel shuddered. “To fuck you.” He caught Castiel’s lip between his teeth and tugged, slipping his tongue back into his mouth, and twisted their hips together. He was so hard he ached, and when his cock slid against Cas’ his vision went staticky. “Want to hear the sounds you make, Cas,” he whispered. “Bet you sound so fucking good.”

He broke away and began to lick down Castiel’s neck, down his chest, pausing to tug at a nipple with his teeth. He licked a stripe down Cas’ ribcage and bit gently at his hipbones, lapped at the rivulets of water running down his stomach, dropping lower and lower until he was perched on his knees, his breath ghosting over Cas’ skin.

“Your cock,” he murmured sincerely, “is even prettier than I’ve been imagining.” He locked eyes with Castiel, whose infuriating self-control had finally gone out the window; he was staring down at Dean, wide-eyed, biting his lip and gasping. Dean bent forward, pressing a wet kiss to the underside. Cas made a choking sound and closed his eyes. Dean dug punishing fingernails into Cas’ hips, leaving tiny red half-moons.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said, keeping his lips on Cas. “I want to see you watching me.” His knees ached but this wasn’t going to last long, no way. As much as he’d love to take his time, drawing it out and finding the things that made Cas see stars, he was already so close he thought he would come just from looking at Castiel, and based on the pulse he could feel thrumming in Cas’ cock, his hitching breath and the pre-come already beading heavily, the angel wasn’t much better off.

Still, he couldn’t resist teasing a little. He swirled his tongue around the head and sucked gently at the sensitive spot on the underside, tracing his fingertips over the ridges. One of Cas’ hands twisted in Dean’s hair.

“Dean,” Cas choked out. “Dean, please, _Dean_ \--”

Dean smirked up at him, as much as you can smirk with someone’s cock in your mouth, but Dean was pretty sure there was nothing in this world or any other that would enable him to resist the sound of Castiel begging. He wrapped his lips around Cas’ head and his hand just below his mouth, and without breaking eye contact he sank down, taking Cas into his throat. And oh, God, the sounds he was making were even more obscene than Dean had fantasized about.

The second Dean’s nose hit Cas’ skin the angel was coming, groaning and shuddering. Dean reached down and fisted himself, and with Cas repeating his name in those sex-broken tones he was coming before Cas even came down.

Cas sank to his knees and Dean leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. The water sliding down their skin was turning lukewarm but neither made a move to turn it off.

“Told you I have good ideas,” said Dean, entwining their fingers. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

Dean avoided eye contact. “I, uh -- I know you don’t need to sleep and stuff, but -- if you wanna stay, I mean --”

Cas smiled slightly. “Yes, Dean.”

\--

“Dean?” called Sam from the bathroom the next morning. “There a reason there’s clothes all over here -- including _in_ the shower? Dude, did you bring someone back here even though you were out _with Cas?_ ”

Dean snorted softly without opening his eyes. Castiel tugged him closer and hummed against his neck.

The bathroom door banged open. “Seriously, Dean, that’s just --” Sam squinted in the darkness, finally noticing that Dean’s bed had sprouted a second body-shaped lump. “Dude! I’m in the fucking room! Did you just leave Cas? What if he’d just, like, angel-blinked in?”

“Hello, Sam.”

There was a pause.

“Oh, no, no, you have _got_ to be kidding me. I need to go drown in bleach. Is there a laundry room here? Jesus Christ. We are so getting two rooms from now on.” Shuddering, Sam grabbed his keys and stumbled for the door.

“Bitch,” said Dean into Castiel’s hair.

“Jerk,” Sam answered, slamming the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel observes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief Castiel interlude. No idea what's up with the tense switch; I'm absolutely making this up as I go along so bear with me. There will be pure, unadulterated porn soon. Promise.
> 
> Rating: T

It is far from the first time that Castiel has watched over Dean in his sleep. It isn’t even the first time that Castiel has watched over Dean in his sleep in their current positions, Cas propped against the headboard with his legs stretched out, watching Dean’s deep, even breathing beside him.

It is, however, definitely the first time that Castiel has watched over Dean in his sleep while they were both naked, and under the covers, with Dean’s hand splayed possessively on Cas’ stomach.

Nothing is different, and everything is different.

Dean has always been the focus of his attention while he watches over him, usually to his irritation. But Cas had never catalogued Dean’s features like this before, committing to memory the shape of his mouth, the color of his eyes, the exact arrangement of his freckles.

It is, Castiel decides, because he has always watched Dean through the eyes of a protector, and later of a friend. He’s never watched through the eyes of a --

Of a what, exactly? He flips through the words in his head like a thesaurus. Lover, boyfriend, paramour -- he snorts softly at the last one. None of them feel right. All he knows is that he’s _Dean’s_ , he’s belonged to Dean from the moment he dragged him out of Hell and pieced him back together.

He’d understood that Dean was attracted to him; it’s impossible to observe human interaction for millennia without picking up some pointers, unsettling as it was to find those signals pointed at _him_. And he’d understood that Dean was a beautiful man. But until last night those were simple observations, and it had not occurred to him to act on them. Then Dean had kissed him, and at the press of his mouth he had been blinded by the need to touch him, by what he supposed was called _desire_.

He threads his fingers through Dean’s hair and squints at it, trying to pin down its precise color; there are yellows and browns and hints of gold. Dean, he decides, is like autumn, the way the leaf-green of his eyes can get lost under October-colored hair.

Dean hums and presses into his hand. Castiel smiles, and adds _cat-like_ to his private list of adjectives he’ll never tell Dean.

He smoothes his hand over Dean’s chest, memorizing its topography, the arrangement of bones and muscles under the skin, and laughs as he imagines Dean’s reaction if he told him that his body reminds him of Atlantis, before it sank.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes are open and disoriented.

“What the fuck?” he chokes, clearly confused at waking up under the hands of a naked angel. Castiel flinches.

“I apologize for startling you,” he mutters, scooting away. “I, uh -- I know. Personal space. We’ve talked about this.”

Dean stares at him blankly for a moment as his brain clears, then rolls his eyes and laughs.

“No, dude,” he says, reaching out to pull the angel into him. “No more personal space.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn, porn, porny porn porn. And Sam is further traumatized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E

Dean wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to waking up under the razor-sharp intensity of Castiel’s eyes, but he was pretty sure he’d never get tired of waking up to the sight of Castiel’s naked body in his bed. He figured it was a fair trade.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he mumbled, yawning into Cas’ shoulder.

Cas frowned. “Why are you greeting the sun?”

Dean laughed. “Nevermind, Cas.” He leaned in to plant a sleepy kiss then paused, making a face. “Tastes like something crawled into my mouth and died. Hol’ on.”

He untangled himself from the bedsheets and padded to the bathroom. He looked around as he brushed his teeth, at the clothes strewn across the floor and the two pairs of boxers still crumpled in the shower. _Subtle_ , he thought with amusement. _Poor Sam_. At least it would probably be hours before Sam would dare poke his head back in the room.

He rinsed his mouth out and wandered out of the bathroom, flopping back to the bed next to Cas.

“So,” he said, throwing Cas an obvious leer, “big plans for the day?”

Cas hummed in response and leaned into Dean’s side. “This is nice,” he said, and Dean couldn’t deny the ball of warmth pooling in his chest. _Chick flick moments_ flickered through his brain, but without real irritation.

His eyes caught on the angry weals circling Castiel’s wrists, and he frowned. “Hey, what --?” he said, pressing a fingertip to one.

“I believe you were holding me down in the sand,” said Cas dispassionately, and Dean blushed -- and what the fuck, since when did Dean Winchester _blush_?

“Uh,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Least you can angel them away, right?”

Cas studied the marks, and Jesus Christ, thought Dean, stop _tilting your fucking head_.

“No,” he said finally. “I like them.”

Dean’s eyes shot to the angel’s face and fuck if he wasn’t instantly hard.

“Yeah?” he said, tracing the stripes on Cas’ wrists.

“Yes,” Cas said softly, his face impenetrable.

Dean brought one of his wrists to his mouth and pressed his lips against the marks. Castiel sucked in a breath.

“Me, too,” said Dean, dragging his tongue over the hot raised skin. “ _Mine_.”

Cas groaned, and then Dean was on him, straddling his hips. “Mine, mine,” he whispered against Cas’ mouth. “Want to mark you, want to mark you mine.”

“Y-yours,” Cas gritted out. “Always yours, from -- from the day I found you, and -- and raised you from --”

“You talk too much too, y’know,” Dean said, and silenced the angel with a kiss, wet and dirty. Cas’ hand came up to grip Dean’s neck and they rocked together. “Y’ve never done this before, have you?”

Castiel shook his head slowly. “And you -- I know you have, of course, but --”

Dean paused. He’d done this with women, obviously, he was a goddamned past master at doing this with women. And he’d done it with men, too, but not like _this_ , this open honest want, needy and chaotic --

“No,” Dean said hoarsely, “not like this.”

Something shifted then, something tense and nervous left the corners of Castiel’s eyes, something Dean hadn’t even seen there until it was gone.

“You,” Dean said, “you don’t think I want you. You don't think you're different.”

“N-no, Dean, it’s just, I just --”

“You think I’m _playing_ with you,” Dean marveled, twisting his fingers into Cas’ hair. “Dude, for an angel, you’re really fuckin’ dumb sometimes.”

He shoved the sheets off and dragged Cas down the bed.

“I,” he said, “I want to fuck you, Cas. I want -- I wanna do things to you,” he breathed. “But if you’re gone -- in the morning -- I --”

Suddenly Dean was on his back, and there was six feet of angel on top of him, and oh holy fucking god the suggestion of obsidian wings flickered in the darkness.

“I want you,” said Castiel, “to fuck me. I want,” he whispered, and this _wasn’t fucking fair_ , “to fuck you, too, Dean.”

Dean reached out, raked at the air, caught at an ethereal feather and Castiel hissed.

“Okay,” Dean said, staring up into Cas’ face. “Okay.”

Cas blinked.

“You --”

Dean yanked the angel’s mouth to his. “Cas,” he said. “Cas -- _Castiel_.” 

“Dean, are you sure you --”

“Cas, if you don’t have your dick in my ass in the next five minutes so help me --”

Castiel’s eyes darkened, and the way he shifted between wide-eyed uncertainty and gravel-voiced sex god was adorable and hilarious and un-fucking-believably hot.

“Five minutes,” he murmured, dragging his fingertips up the inside of Dean’s thigh, “sounds like a very long time.”

“Then you’d better fucking get started already,” Dean grated out. “You know how this works?”

“I’m an angel of the Lord, Dean,” he whispered, with feather-light touches to Dean’s cock. “I think I know how to make you see stars.” He paused. “Also, you’ve showed me how to use the Internet,” he admitted.

Dean made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. “So are you the pizza man or the babysitter?”

Cas gave him an almost predatory smile. He pressed his fingers further between Dean’s legs. “Do you have…”

“Um,” said Dean, gesturing vaguely at his duffel bag. “In the -- in the pocket.”

Cas leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged in the bag, returning with a small bottle. He gave it a generous squeeze over his fingertips then returned his attention to Dean, sliding his fingers down his length and lower, pressing against him, _into_ him --

“Oh, Jesus,” Dean choked. Cas was going to make good on his promise and he only had one finger inside him, stroking slowly. He tried to push down further but Cas stilled him with a hand on his hip. “Oh, Jesus, Cas, please, fuck, _Cas_ \--”

“Don’t be greedy,” he growled, digging his thumbnail into Dean’s hip. “It hasn’t been five minutes yet.”

Dean snarled, but Cas continued taking his time, adding a second finger, then a third, carefully avoiding Dean’s prostate.

“Are you ready?” he finally asked, sliding his fingers out and moving up the bed to kneel between Dean’s legs.

“Wrap it in fucking sandpaper if you want to,” he snapped, “just -- fucking -- _please_ \--”

“Tell me if I hurt you?” Cas asked softly, lining himself up against Dean. His eyes were dark with lust, but Dean could see eddies of concern and uncertainty.

“Yes, Cas,” Dean said, running a hand down Castiel’s ribcage. “You won’t hurt me.”

Cas slid in all at once then stilled completely, clearly trying to get control of himself.

“Cas, please,” Dean begged, trying to push down on him, fucking _squirming_.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, grabbing Dean’s other hip. “Dean -- stop -- fucking -- moving.” Dean stilled himself with great effort and Cas took several deep, shaky breaths. “OK,” he said, shifting his hips experimentally, and Dean arched his back and cried out.

Cas found a steady rhythm and Dean wrapped his legs around his back, twisting his hand in the sheets. His eyes stayed locked on the angel’s and his lips were moving almost soundlessly in a litany of obscenities and prayers.

“Cas, God, please -- so good, so fucking beautiful -- Cas, Cas, fuck, oh God I’m fucking close --”

“So beautiful,” Cas echoed, intensifying his pace.

Cas knew they weren’t going to last, neither of them. He’d nearly come the instant he’d slid into Dean; he’d manage to fight back his orgasm slightly, but it felt like trying to hold back the ocean with a footbridge.

“Yes, Cas, Jesus, going to -- fucking, fucking angel, _my_ angel, _mine_ \--” he growled. And that was it, Cas was gone, wrapping his fist around Dean’s cock as he came. Dean followed instantly, snarling and writhing as he came, white spots dancing at the corners of his vision.

Cas collapsed on top of Dean and they lay pressed together, ignoring the stickiness between them.

“Holy fuck,” Dean breathed finally.

Castiel snorted. “In a manner of speaking.”

Dean groaned. “I miss the days before you discovered sarcasm,” he mumbled into the angel’s neck, but he wrapped his arms around him, and Cas could feel his smile.

Sam’s voice came through the door, sounding slightly choked.

“Uh,” he said. “I was going to ask if it was safe to come in, but Dean’s, uh, eloquence made it a little redundant. Jesus Christ, dude, I can’t ever un-hear that.” They heard Sam stomp off and a car door slam.

“Gonna have to sully up the Impala soon,” said Dean with a snicker.

Cas laughed. “He’ll have an aneurysm, Dean.”

“Yep,” said Dean cheerfully. “Just tryin’ to be the best big brother I can be.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam broods. Gabriel is bored and makes plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a tiny Sam POV interlude. I have no idea where Gabriel even came from, but he was suddenly, insistently there, and I had to write him. I hope it works.
> 
> Only fake porn this time. More soon!
> 
> And I know I have a problem with italics.
> 
> Rating: T

Sam was happy for Dean and Cas. He was fucking thrilled, there’s no question about that. He loved his brother more than anyone on the planet, and despite his peculiarities -- and the less _profound bond_ , the dick -- Cas had come to occupy the #2 position. After watching the two of them dance around their mutual attraction for so long, Sam had been about ready to lock the idiots in the bunker’s basement until they fucked it out. 

He had planned, however, to be very fucking far out of hearing range when that happened. Let alone _seeing_ range. He had very much not planned to be stuck alone with the two of them in a motel in fucking Florida while they got years of sexual frustration out of their systems.

Sam shuddered, then jumped as a voice announced its presence from the passenger seat.

“What’s up, Sammy-boy?”

“Gabriel! Don’t fucking do that! And _really_ don’t do that while I’m driving, you asshole!”

“Sorry,” he said innocently. “I could smell your angst from fucking Cairo.”

“What were you doing in Egypt?”

“Egyptians,” Gabriel said with a grin. Sam rolled his eyes. “So let me guess: Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee back there finally got their heads out of their asses? And, perhaps, replaced their heads with their dicks?”

Sam snorted. “Charming as ever, Gabe. But basically, yeah. I thought nothing could be worse than the constant eye-fucking, and I have never been more wrong in my life. And I have been really fucking wrong about some things, dude.”

“We could get back at them.”

Sam looked over suspiciously.

“You know… me, you, a bottle of wine… some hot, kinky, _really_ loud sex in the motel room next door… preferably against the adjoining wall…?”

Sam laughed. “Tempting, Gabe. Sadly, I’m still straight.”

Gabriel sighed theatrically. “Someday, Samsquatch.”

Sam shook his head. Gabriel was annoying and obnoxious, frequently bordering on creepy, but it was still hard to stay in a shitty mood in his company.

“We could fake it,” Gabe said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I detect zero ulterior motives there, Gabe.”

“Samsquatch, as much as I would like to get into those sexy sexy pants, and as much as I will never stop trying, I’m not going to trick you into it.”

“Says the Trickster.”

Gabriel paused. “Fair point.”

“Who _trapped me in a TV show_ ,” Sam reminded him.

Gabriel looked almost meek, and that was an unsettling expression to see on his face. 

They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Sam snickered. Gabriel glanced at him.

“It would be funny,” Sam admitted.

“Am I allowed to convince you?”

“ _Gabe_.”

“Sam-o-mine, I’m fucking bored. You’re chased out of your motel room. You’d be stupid to think I won’t try to seduce you, but I mean, I do that all the time anyway. I swear on all things holy and unholy I won’t trick you into doing anything you wouldn’t do. And our brothers, in their pre-nuptial bliss, deserve to be fucked with.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Gabriel sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

"Sam. I'm an archangel. If I really planned to get you to bone me into next Tuesday through less-than-savory means, don't you think I'd have done so the first time I saw that ridiculous piece of moose ass? That stopped being interesting, like, thousands of years ago." He winked. "I think Cleopatra ruined me. So no, I'll be relying on my wit and charm to wear you down. And my stunning, god-like beauty, of course."

Sam snorted but appeared to be considering it, so Gabriel redoubled his efforts.

" _Sammy_ ," he whined. "I'm _bored_. And you don't want a bored _me_ on your hands, do you?"

"You could fuck off back to Egypt," Sam suggested. "Or, you know, anywhere. I'm sure there's _someplace_ you haven't violated yet. Maybe."

Gabriel shrugged. "You're more fun. Anyway, Sam, you can't drive forever. And you probably won't want to be in that motel room for days yet, and probably not without a haz-mat suit. You could sulk by yourself or we could have some fun. In one fashion or another.” He winked again. “No inappropriate touching. Promise.”

"Gabe, everything you do is inappropriate. You're inappropriate when you _breathe_." He sighed. "Fine. You're right, anyway. If I don't build up a tolerance to this shit I'm going to lose my mind. Or at least my lunch."

Gabriel grinned at him brightly. Sam shook his head.

\--

Sam gave the receptionist his best Winchester smile. "We're on vacation with the guests in room 214," he said, "but we got held up a couple of days. I know it's a pain, but I wondered if you could see if any rooms are open nearby?"

She smiled back with polite boredom. "It's no trouble. Let me see." She tapped the keyboard a few times. "Yup, looks like 216 is available just next door. You're all set, Mr..." She glanced at the credit card as she slid it across the counter with the room key. "Elliot. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Sam had his doubts about that. "I'm sure we will, ma'am. Thanks."

He wandered back out to the car, where Gabriel was taking advantage of Dean’s absence by leaning on the hood.

“I’m not convinced this isn’t your worst idea ever, Gabe,” he said. “And that’s _including_ the time you trapped me in a TV show.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Gabriel, grabbing a case of beer from the backseat. “Hey, even if being stuck near three very horny men doesn’t ignite your latent desire for cock like I am so dearly, dearly hoping, eventually you’ll become immune to it, right?”

“Your logic floors me,” Sam said, following Gabriel up the stairs.

“Should we announce our presence?” Gabriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Better make sure it’s safe first,” Sam said with a grimace. A thought struck him. “Actually, I think you should be a surprise,” he added. “Considering the last time he saw you, Dean might actually have a stroke.”

Gabriel beamed at him. “You surprise me, Sam-o.”

Sam snorted, and gingerly leaned an ear towards the wall, as if it were likely to bite him. All he could hear through the wall was the dull buzz of the television and occasional quiet words.

“Well, I guess nobody can be fucking _all_ the time.”

“Try me,” Gabriel said, but the accompanying eyebrow-wiggle was more goofy than salacious, and Sam ignored it. He grabbed a beer and walked out the door to the adjacent room. He braced himself and knocked.

“C’me in,” Dean’s voice came through the door, sounding slightly slurred.

Sam dug out his key and covered his eyes before opening the door an inch. “Am I going to still have eyes if I open them?”

Dean snickered. “It’s ’kay, Sammy.” 

Sam opened his eyes warily. And, yeah, Dean and Cas’ faces and postures pretty much screamed “well-fucked,” but at least they were dressed. Ish. Not naked, at least. He coughed.

“Yeah, uh. Just wanted to let you know I got the room next door, figured I’d leave you guys to your den of sin over here. Try to keep the moans of ecstasy to a dull roar.”

“Maybe,” Dean grinned. “You should go out and find yourself a beach bunny, Sam. All blonde and tan, yeah?”

“Maybe I already _have_ , yeah?” Sam retorted.

“Good. I got dibs on the only tall, dark and angelic in the area.”

“Jesus, Dean.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam shook his head and started to close the door.

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas called softly, and the affection and happiness in his voice was so transparent that it made Sam’s irritation begin to melt away.

Which did not, of course, make him remotely unwilling to exact revenge.

“So?” said Gabriel as Sam shut the door and sat down on the other bed. “Haven’t fucked themselves into paralysis yet?”

“No,” Sam said. “Fucking idiots. They’re so happy I don’t know whether I want to puke or buy them flowers. Or just myself some ear plugs.”

“Well,” said Gabriel, “I dunno about ear plugs, but I’d make a vote for blindfolds.”

Sam groaned and dropped his head into his heads. “Dude, I’ve killed demons. I’ve died and gone to Hell. I’m drinking beer with a fucking archangel right now. How is it my brother falling in love that makes me wonder _how is this my life_?”

Gabriel sat down next to Sam on the bed and put an arm around his shoulder -- _tentatively_ , Sam would say, if it were anyone else.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said, “it’s the stupid thing about perspective. No matter what you do, it’s only the things you care about the most that matter.”

Sam leaned slightly into his side. “I’m a little perturbed that that actually makes sense.”

“I may be a complete asshole of an archangel, but I _do_ know some things about humanity, little moose,” said Gabriel. “So! What’s the plan? Do I get to pretend-fuck you so hard you can’t see yet?”

Sam shoved Gabriel away. “This was _your_ plan, if I may remind you. I did possibly imply that I brought back a ‘beach bunny’. Blonde and tan, which,” he glanced at Gabriel’s pale skin, “well, close enough.”

“I am a Norse god, thank you very much,” said Gabriel, affronted.

“As you’ve made abundantly clear, yes,” Sam said, draining his beer. “I definitely need to be drunk today.”

“And far it be for me to deny you the lubrication of your inhibitions.” Gabriel snapped his fingers and a fresh beer appeared in Sam’s hand.

“Dude, it was like five feet away.”

“But you looked so comfortable, Sammy-boy.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“No tricks, you promised.”

“I put a beer in your hand. Getting you drunk isn’t a trick; it’s a very, _very_ human strategy that’s been used since the dawn of mankind.”

“Gabe, you aren’t helping your case with the whole ‘I swear I’m not trying to seduce you’ thing.”

“I am trying to seduce you, I told you that. I’m just not tricking you into it.”

“Jesus, Gabe.”

“Not quite.”

\--

A couple of hours later Gabriel had stayed true to his word. He flirted shamelessly with Sam but kept out of his personal space, aside from keeping Sam’s beer replenished.

“Yes, Sam,” said Gabriel when Sam opened his mouth. “I am trying to get you drunk in order to sleep with you. I am _not_ forcing you to drink nor tricking you into sleeping with me.” Sam shut his mouth, then shrugged. He was drunk enough to admit that it was nice hanging out with someone who wasn’t --

A low moan came through the wall and Sam froze. Gabriel snickered.

“I think that’s our cue,” said Gabriel. He got up from the couch and crawled across the bed, straddling Sam’s lap.

“ _Gabe_.”

Gabriel smirked down at him lasciviously, then dropped a smacking kiss on the top of his head before climbing off and settling down beside him.

“We can’t have pretend-sex from opposite sides of the room, Sam-moose.” He flicked his fingers and the bed started moving, knocking against the wall. Sam couldn’t help laughing.

“Seriously, Gabe?”

Gabriel grinned at him. “Seriously, Sam. You have to make some noise.”

Sam covered his face. “I can’t fuckin’ believe I agreed to this.” He screwed up his eyes and let out what felt like a very loud, very fake moan.

Suppressed laughter came from the next room. Then “Atta boy, Sammy!” followed by what was unmistakably the sound of Cas smacking Dean.

A wicked glint was in Gabriel’s eyes. He leaned back so his mouth was next to the wall. “Oh, Sam,” he groaned. 

The sounds from the other room stilled instantly. “That wasn’t” – “no way” –

Gabriel leaned over. “I hope this is the only time I will ever say this when you aren't naked, but say my name.”

Sam was laughing silently by now. He took a deep breathed and growled as deeply as he could, “ _Gaa-abe…_ ”

There was a beat, then the sound of stomping and rustling, then --

“Sam?” yelled Dean, banging at the door. “Sam, I swear to God --”

Sam and Gabriel were both shaking with laughter, and this time Sam didn’t protest when Gabriel swung his leg over his lap.

“Oh, Gabe,” he cried in a falsetto, punctuated by laughter.

“ _Saaaam_ ,” Gabriel moaned, putting his hand over Sam’s mouth to silence his snickering.

There was a pause, then even louder stomping and the door slammed. Sam and Gabriel looked at each other for a moment then dissolved into giggles. Gabriel collapsed onto Sam’s chest, and Sam was too drunk to realize he’d automatically wrapped his arms around the archangel.

Gabe pulled back slightly. Sam’s eyes were half-closed, but they were slightly dilated, and definitely focused on Gabriel’s mouth. He leaned in to take a triumphant kiss, but stopped at the bleary look in Sam’s eyes.

“Gabe?” Sam mumbled, and fuck, _fuck_ , was he really getting stirrings of a conscience _now_ , with an entire bed’s worth of golden and beautiful Sam Winchester laid out in front of him --

“Go to sleep, Sam,” he sighed, pressing his mouth to Sam’s forehead. He settled back against the headboard and pulled Sam's head against his shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas distracts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

Dean stomped back into his room and slammed the door.

“Fucking Gabriel,” he said, throwing himself on the bed next to Cas.

Cas stroked his hair. “He will be fine, Dean. And it is our fault he’s not in here, after all.”

“Sammy’s a big boy,” Dean grumbled. “He can take care of himself.”

“It would appear he _is_ taking care of himself.”

“Wait, you don’t think they actually were -- Sam’s not -- God, fucking Gabriel!” he said again.

“Would that be so bad?” Cas asked.

“What? Yes! Jesus Christ, it’s fucking _Loki_!”

“Gabriel cares very much about Sam, Dean.”

Dean’s hackles were still up and his mood showed no sign of lightening. Cas watched him thoughtfully.

“Dean?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Would you teach me how to -- how to do what you did to me in the shower?”

Heat flared in Dean’s chest. He knew perfectly well that Castiel was trying to distract him, and his dick informed him that he was perfectly all right with that, thank you very much.

“You want me to give you blowjob lessons?”

Castiel nodded, almost shyly. Which was ridiculous, as they had begun the day with the angel buried to the hilt in Dean’s ass, and he was certainly not fucking shy about that.

“Uh, Cas, based on what I now know about your mouth, I don’t think you’re gonna need lessons, buddy.”

Cas actually blushed. “It seems more complex,” he said softly. “I -- you don’t have to. I mean, I’m sure I can --”

Dean shut him up, pulling him in for a kiss, slow and sweet.

“Cas, only you would apologize for wanting to suck your boyfriend’s dick as good as you can, dude.”

Cas smiled. “Are -- are you my boyfriend?”

Dean paused; he hadn’t really given it any thought before the word slipped out. He shrugged. “Well, I think we tumbled past the lines of _friendship_ somewhere when you were coming down my throat,” he said with a short laugh.

Cas was looking at him with a soft smile. He leaned in to kiss Dean again, then copied Dean’s actions of the night before, sliding his mouth down his throat and across his chest, sucking briefly on a nipple.

Dean’s breathing hitched. “Dude,” he managed, “if you get any _better_ with your tongue you might actually kill me.”

“Mmm,” Cas said in reply, mouthing down Dean’s stomach. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s boxers, and Dean lifted his hips so he could tug them off.

The sight of Castiel kneeling between his legs inches from his cock, staring up at him and biting his lower lip, put Dean teetering on the brink before Cas even touched him. Cas leaned down and hesitantly licked the wetness on the tip, and Dean clenched the sheets in his hands.

“Fuck. Uh. Yes. Good,” he panted. “I’m -- I’m not going to fucking last long enough to give -- much of a lesson. You make me f-feel like a teenager.” He took a few deep, steadying breaths. “OK. You -- you can start like that, using your -- your lips and tongue to kind of -- explore, I guess. No teeth, that’s r-rule number one.”

Castiel nodded and obeyed, sliding open-mouthed kisses down Dean’s length. He licked a hot flat stripe back up then lingered on the head. It felt almost reverent, like his mouth was a prayer, tracing psalms with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Cas, stop, stop, Jesus, _stop_ ,” Dean gasped. Cas drew back instantly, wide-eyed.

“Did I --”

“No, you did not fucking do anything wrong. You did the furthest from anything wrong it is possible to do. I just -- hold on.”

Cas nodded, and while the sight of the angel’s unearthly eyes shining up at him in the darkness while his fingertips danced up and down Dean’s legs and stomach was not particularly effective in controlling his arousal, after a minute or two he managed to get some semblance of a hold on himself.

“OK,” he said. “OK. The next thing is to -- to take me inside your mouth. It, uh. It might be uncomfortable at first, and -- if it’s hurting you, or -- or it’s hard to breathe, stop right away, OK, Cas? It gets a lot easier with practice, and you don’t need to -- to -- oh holy fucking Christ oh _fuck_.”

Cas had wrapped his lips around the head of Dean’s cock and was sucking gently, pressing his tongue against the tip, applying hot wet pressure all over. He clenched his hands on Dean’s thighs and sank slowly down, and yes, this lesson was _over_ , Dean’s lost the capacity for coherence, can’t even summon any profanity.

“Cas,” he finally choked out. “Cas, Cas, Cas, gonna -- gonna --”

Cas dug his fingernails into Dean’s legs, and Dean saw the barest hint of a nod. His ears were actually ringing and his vision was beginning to go fuzzy. Cas finally took him all the way down his throat, locking eyes with Dean as his lips met his groin, and Dean was coming so hard it hurt, arching and spasming, and in some very, very distant corner of his brain he wondered if he were actually having a heart attack.

Castiel pulled off slowly, worshipfully, and crawled up the bed to straddle Dean’s lap. Dean slung his arms bonelessly around Cas’ neck and rested his head on his shoulder.

“You,” Dean finally said weakly, “are a little shit. Blowjob lessons. Jesus.”

“Was -- was that OK?” Cas said timidly.

Dean pulled back and gaped at him. “Was that -- wait. Seriously? You seriously _did not know what you were doing_? It wasn’t just a -- a distraction?”

Cas blinked at him. “It was both,” he said. “I wanted you to feel better. And I wanted to know how to make you feel good. It seemed…” he trailed off. “Did, um… did I do something wrong?”

Dean stared at him in disbelief. Laughter bubbled up in his throat. “Jesus Christ. Cas, I have, quite literally, died and been to Hell, and right now I’m pretty sure I’m still the luckiest dude on the planet. That was amazing. You’re amazing. Jesus.”

Castiel visibly relaxed. He clambered over Dean and scooted up against his side, and Dean dropped his head onto Cas’ shoulder. He was still shaking slightly and Cas wrapped his arm around Dean, pulling him closer, unknowingly mirroring their brothers in the next room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually started out more Sam/Gabriel, but, well, this happened instead, and I was powerless to change it. More Sam/Gabriel or stick with Dean and Cas? Thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe distracts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sabriel, as requested!
> 
> Rating: T

Sam woke up with a start, his head pillowed on something soft and warm, with fingers twisting idly in his hair. The television was on with the volume low, turned to some sort of nature documentary and the clock shone 2:23 am. He blinked up at Gabriel in confusion, and as it dawned on him that his head was in Gabriel’s lap, he looked around in obvious panic to make sure they were still clothed.

“Your virtue is still intact, Sammy,” said Gabriel. “Much to the surprise of both of us, I assure you, if possibly only to my dismay.”

The fog began clearing from Sam’s mind as the previous night’s events came back to him. He remembered Gabriel straddling his lap, grinning like he’d just won a fucking prize, and leaning in. He flushed.

“You didn’t --”

“No, Sam,” sighed Gabriel. “I decided I want my most highly-desired sexual conquest to _not_ be drunk, half-asleep and drooling. I must be growing up.”

“I don’t drool,” Sam said automatically. Gabe raised an eyebrow and pointed to a small wet spot on the bottom of his shirt.

“Not the kind of stains I was hoping to acquire, little moose,” Gabriel said, but he kept petting Sam’s hair.

Sam knew he should sit up, but the angel’s lap was fucking comfortable, and the fingers in his hair were oddly soothing. He kept thinking back to Gabriel’s face leaning in; his smile had been open and full of laughter, not his usual manipulative grin or playful smirk. He very decidedly was _not_ thinking about the shape of Gabe’s mouth or the color of his lips.

“Also, you weren’t fucking kidding about those assholes next door,” said Gabriel. “Jesus. I don’t know whether to be disturbed or impressed.”

“Disturbed,” Sam said with a shudder. “Definitely, definitely disturbed.”

As if on cue, a moan came through the wall. Castiel’s, Sam thought, and he was not at all happy that he could identify Dean and Cas’ sex noises. He reached out and smacked his hand on the wall.

“Don’t you guys do anything else?” he yelled.

“Not plannin’ on it,” came Dean’s reply. Sam groaned and covered his face with a pillow.

“They’ll get over it,” Gabriel said with a laugh. “Do you really blame them?”

Sam sighed. “No. Of course I don’t. I’m fucking delighted for the idiots, I really am. I just wish they’d picked a better time to finally realize what every single person who has ever been in the same room as them already knew. Like a time when I’m not trapped in close proximity to the both of them a thousand fucking miles from Kansas.” He paused. “I’m glad you’re here, Gabe,” he admitted.

“I’d never leave you alone in your time of need, Sam-o,” he declared. “Wait, you didn’t just friend-zone me, did you?”

Sam snorted. “No, Gabe.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Wait, no, I meant -- shit.”

“As long as I’ve still got a shot.”

“Are you this persistent with everybody else?”

“Are you this resistant with everybody else?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Sam, you are one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever known, and I’ve known -- and I do mean _known_ \-- a lot of men. And I, conveniently, have absolutely no shame.”

Sam was silent for a few moments. “Really?”

“Yes, Sammy, I really have no shame. You of all people should know that.” Gabriel poked Sam in the ribs.

“No, asshole, I meant --”

“The other part? Well, there was this guy in Athens, back when all anybody cared about was taking over the civilized world and fucking -- ah, that was a beautiful time,” said Gabriel wistfully. “But as he was a literal Greek god, the comparison seems unfair.”

Sam blushed again, barely visible in the glow from the TV. He _was_ glad Gabriel had shown up, to his surprise. Despite being in closer physical proximity than he'd ever been -- he was lying in the dude's _lap_ , for Christ's sake -- the skittish defensiveness Gabe usually inspired wasn't there. Maybe it was because Gabriel himself seemed -- content, as much as Sam's brain struggled with putting the words _content_ and _Gabriel_ in the same sentence. His attention felt mellow and affectionate, instead of a constant attempt to get under Sam's skin.

The sounds from next door had not abated but they had faded into background noise, under the buzz of the television and -- Gabriel was humming, Sam realized, something low and absent. It sounded somehow ancient, and Sam felt a sudden, unexpected twist of tenderness for the archangel, so alone among humanity. He wrapped his arm around Gabriel’s knee as his eyes slipped shut.

Gabriel smiled down at Sam. He hadn’t been lying when he said that Sam was one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen, and he sure as hell wasn’t lying about the sincerity of his intent and attempts to fuck him into next Tuesday. But sometimes he was struck by the man’s _goodness_ , how after a life spent in the darkest evil, after spending a year in Hell, having his soul ripped out, being possessed by Lucifer himself, Sam still radiated kindness and selflessness.

Gabriel smoothed a hand across the mess of hair in his lap. Sam smiled sleepily and pressed into the touch.

“Hey, Gabe?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah, Sam-o?”

“What’re you humming?” Gabe was silent for a minute; he hadn’t been aware of it. “Never mind,” Sam said, rubbing sleepy circles on Gabriel’s leg. “I was just wondering.”

“It’s very old,” Gabriel said at last, softly. “From before I left Heaven.”

Sam’s eyes opened and he blinked up into Gabriel’s golden ones. They revealed nothing but open affection, but Sam felt like Gabe had just given him a rare gift.

The question slipped out before he could help it. “Do you miss it?”

Gabriel smiled at him sadly and ran a hand down Sam’s face.

“Go to sleep, Sammy.”

The room was quiet for a few minutes, Sam’s breathing slowing down and his hand stilling.

“Gabe?” he said in a whisper. “Thanks.”

Without thinking, Gabriel leaned down and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Sam’s mouth. Sam smiled slightly without opening his eyes.

“Anytime, little moose,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be porn, I promise. But we couldn't make things too easy for Gabe, could we?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys clear the air. At least a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

The two angels and two hunters were eating breakfast at, of course, a diner, and Dean was frankly impressed at the squalor of Floridian greasy spoons. He would have sworn up and down that no place could have more deliciously atrocious roadside diners than the endless stretch of I-70 between Topeka and Denver, but this place didn’t even have a name.

Sam had managed to coax a plate of fruit and toast from the waitress, and Cas was just stealing an occasional bite from Dean, but Gabriel was working his way through a stack of pancakes and bacon that rivaled Dean’s own. Dean had caught Gabe rolling his eyes at Sam’s pile of rabbit food, and it thawed Dean’s animosity towards the archangel a tiny bit.

The only reason they had all even managed to sit down together without re-starting the apocalypse was mostly because when Dean had banged on their door in the morning, Sam had opened the door fully clothed, bitch-face in place, and clearly unmolested. And possibly because Cas had given him a short lecture that probably included the word _hypocrite_ and may or may not have mentioned _being an asshole_.

“So,” said Dean to Sam around a particularly large mouthful of pancakes, syrup dripping off his chin, “s’err a’ry news from Bobby?”

Sam stared at Dean for a few moments before turning to Cas. “Dude, you seriously have sex with this thing?”

Dean grinned widely, mouth still full, and Cas flushed, but Gabriel didn’t miss the smile quirking at the corners of his brother’s mouth, and Gabe felt an annoying rush of affection for Dean Winchester.

“Anyway, no. Texted last night, said they’re still tracking the coven, and we,” Sam sighed, “have to stay put.”

“So we have the day free, then?” Dean said, with an ostentatious leer at Castiel.

Sam looked down at his coffee. He missed his brother, despite all his irritation and aggravation. It made him heart-glad every time he saw the way Dean and Cas looked at each other, but there was a tiny ball of anxiety in his chest, wondering if Team Free Will was over and done with, and now it would be Dean-and-Cas, with Sam hovering on the outside.

Dean and Cas were too engrossed in each other to notice, but Gabriel caught the look on Sam’s face. He cleared his throat.

“If I may request the honor of a dance,” he said. “Dean, would you mind if I stole Cassie from you for a little bit? I haven’t seen my baby bro in ages,” he said plaintively, “and you and Sam could catch up with your plans. And, like, a sanitizing shower, maybe, for you.”

Dean scowled at Gabriel, but he looked at Sam and his face softened. “Sounds good,” he said, and Sam looked up, surprised. “You still need to check out the ocean, you dick. I promise not to try to fuck you in the water, unlike someone else in the room."

Cas blushed again, and Sam groaned. “Dude, you’ve single-handedly made me want to never set foot in an _entire ocean_.”

Dean grinned. “Well, it wasn’t _entirely_ single-handed.”

\--

Dean and Sam wandered down the beach with their jeans rolled up. It really was pretty, Sam had to admit, with the postcard-perfect blue skies and white sand and palm trees, and the Atlantic licking at their toes.

“So, uh,” Sam began.

“Nope,” Dean said pleasantly, not looking at him.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said, exasperated. “You do realize I deserve a fucking Nobel Prize for not writing _I told you so_ in one of those weird fucking skywriting planes, right?”

Dean sighed. “Look, Sammy. I don’t know what you want me to say. It, uh… Stuff. It’s good, OK?”

“Yeah, so I’ve fucking heard,” Sam muttered.

Dean smirked. “So no big girl talk needed. I’ll get you some noise-canceling headphones for your birthday. So… you and Gabriel --”

“There is no me and Gabriel, Dean,” Sam snapped.

Dean stopped walking. “I'd know that bitch-face anywhere, Sammy,” he said. “It means there _is_ a you-and-Gabriel.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s been keeping me company because _somebody_ ,” he said pointedly, “has fucked me out of our motel room.” He replayed that sentence in his head. “Oh, God. Ew. Jesus. Anyway. Yes, he’s made it unabashedly clear he wants us to follow you guys’ example. No, he is not trying to con me into it and no, unlike you guys, we are not having crazy sex every spare minute of the day. Or, uh. Or at all.” He ignored the little voice in his head saying things like _why_ and _if_ and _when_.

Dean watched him from the corner of his eye. He sighed. “You be careful, Sammy-boy,” he said, wrapping an arm around his massive shoulders.

“I’m always careful,” he replied. “And… congrats, dude.”

Dean shoved Sam away, but he was smiling.

\--

“Are you playing with Sam Winchester?” said Castiel without preamble.

Gabriel’s head came up. “Wait, what?”

They were sitting on an old picnic table at a beachfront park, each nursing a beer.

“I’m serious, Gabriel. I don’t think your intentions are malicious, but please don’t toy with Sam.”

“I’m not toying with Sam,” he protested. Castiel gave him a look. “Cas, I’m really not. I’ve informed him repeatedly and descriptively of the things I want to do to his gorgeous body, but I’ve also sworn -- _truthfully_ \-- that I wouldn’t trick or con or fucking force him into anything. Seriously.”

Castiel held his gaze for a moment, then nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Cas had refused to take off his coat, and it flapped rhythmically against the table in the breeze. Gabriel watched the palm fronds and the reeds in the sand dunes. In his head he parsed out the math in the tides; he picked a grain of sand and he followed back its trajectory, to the point it first became a grain of sand, and --

“I kissed him,” he said. Cas’ head whipped around.

“You --”

“Not like that,” he said quietly. “Not like -- we were just talking. And he was falling asleep, and I was humming Michael’s song and I didn’t even realize it. I didn’t even _mean_ to kiss him.”

“What did he do?”

“He just smiled,” Gabriel said, peeling apart a blade of grass. “He was mostly asleep.”

Castiel stared at him for a moment, then to his shock Cas pulled him into a hug.

“Dean’s rubbing off on you, little bro,” he said into Castiel’s shoulder. “Oh, God, not like that. Well, yeah, obviously like that, but --” he paused. “You’re happy, Cassie.”

“Yes, Gabriel,” he said into his hair. “I’m happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I'm seriously starting to wish I'd split this into two separate fics.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gabe, we aren’t on a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

Sam and Gabriel wandered down the boardwalk, and the whole thing was so fucking clichéd Sam made Gabe swear up and down he did not orchestrate it. The breeze was warm and salty and smelled like honeysuckle, and the ocean roared softly in the east. And Gabriel was eating a fucking cotton-candy cone, of all things, pink and sticky, and Sam pushed words like _adorable_ and _sexy_ out of his head, replacing them with things like _ridiculous_ and _annoying_ and _adorable_ and -- shit.

“Seriously, Gabe, are you twelve?”

Gabriel grinned at him. “Sometimes,” he said innocently. “Mostly not.”

Sam gave him a token eye-roll, but he had to admit he was enjoying himself. It had been so many years since he and Dean had lived anything resembling a normal life, if ever, and walking down this stupid boardwalk like an ordinary person, Sam felt something uncoil slightly inside him.

Gabriel seized his hand and pulled him into one of the storefronts. Sam blinked, startled. It was dark and dusty and hot, but he recognized some of the machines.

“Dude, are we in an arcade?”

“I’m going to win you a stuffed animal,” Gabriel said, pulling him through the aisles.

“Gabe, we aren’t on a date.”

“ _I_ am most certainly on a date, little moose,” Gabriel said. “If _you_ are not on a date then that is your problem, and you are very much missing out. And if I win you one, you have to kiss me.”

“Nope,” Sam said automatically.

“Fine,” Gabriel said, undeterred. “If I win I’m going to try to kiss you, and take it as you will. Fair?”

“ _Gabe_.”

“That’s not a no,” Gabriel said, and disappeared into the crowd.

Half an hour later, Gabriel was gleefully shoving a giant purple panda into Sam’s arms.

“Jesus Christ, Gabe. Are you seriously going to...?”

Gabriel sighed dramatically. “Not _here_ , Sam. Haven’t you been on a date before?” He paused. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You always make me uncomfortable.”

Gabe smiled at him, open and honest. “I try. But seriously. I’ll back off, I swear.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the reciprocating smile at the corners of his mouth. “You’re fine, dude.”

Gabriel’s face lit up. “Good, because we’re going on the Ferris wheel.” He seized Sam’s wrist.

“Oh, my God, Gabe.”

Which is how Sam Winchester, who had drunk the blood of demons, shared a body with Lucifer and started the apocalypse, found himself perched atop a Ferris wheel at midnight, with a fucking purple panda bear on his lap and an archangel sitting next to him happily kicking his feet.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Sam said.

“Among other things, yes.” He poked at the stuffed animal. “What’s its name?”

“I am not naming it, dude. I am not _keeping_ it.”

Hurt flashed across Gabriel’s face for a second before it rearranged itself into its customary grin.

“You _have_ to keep it, Sam-o. What will keep you warm at night when I’m gone?” he said with a theatrical pout.

Sam snorted, but something twisted unpleasantly in his stomach.

“Fine. But if you tell Dean, I swear to God --”

“It’ll be our little secret, Sammy-boy,” Gabriel said, slinging an arm around Sam’s shoulders. His features relaxed into the easy smile that was becoming less and less disconcerting on his face. Sam looked over him, at the golden hair flopping over the golden eyes, and his eyes flickered down to Gabriel’s mouth.

Gabriel watched the string of expressions flitting across Sam’s face. “Hey,” he said, poking Sam gently in the ribs. “What’s going on in that ridiculous moose brain of yours?”

Sam swallowed and opened his mouth, and at that moment the Ferris wheel ground to life again, slowly bringing them back down. Sam shook his head.

Eventually they found themselves sitting side by side on a playground jungle gym near the motel, sharing a six-pack of shitty beer they’d picked up from a convenience store.

“Think it’s safe to go back?” Sam asked.

Gabriel laughed. “They were forced to be apart all afternoon, Sammy. I don’t know if we’d be able to get their dicks out of each other with a crowbar.”

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Sam groaned. “Just when I think you’re growing on me.”

Gabriel grinned and scrambled up to throw a leg over Sam’s lap. “So I _am_ growing on you,” he said triumphantly.

Sam rolled his eyes, but his hands automatically came up to rest on the angel’s hips. “Fuck’s sake, Gabe --”

“All it took was a romantic night out at an arcade that probably hasn’t been cleaned since 1982,” he teased.

“Gabe --”

“And a very large, very purple panda bear.”

“ _Gabe_.”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Gabriel said, his voice turning serious, and Sam shut his mouth. “Is that OK?”

“Um,” said Sam. _Yes_ and _no_ and _I don’t know_ skittered through his head, but as Gabriel stared at him they turned into _please_ and _now_ and _finally_.

Gabriel moved closer until his forehead was resting against Sam’s. “You sure?” he breathed against Sam’s mouth.

Sam reached up to grab Gabriel’s face in his hands and kissed him hard. Gabriel stiffened and made a small, surprised noise, then returned the kiss with enthusiasm, wrapping his hand in Sam’s hair.

They broke apart, wide-eyed and gasping. “Oh,” said Gabriel, for once at a loss for words.

“Yeah,” agreed Sam, swallowing.

Gabriel brought his hand to Sam’s mouth, tracing his lower lip with his thumb, and Sam instinctively opened his mouth and licked it. Gabriel hissed. Sam closed his mouth and sucked gently, and he could feel Gabriel hardening on top of him, and fuck if that wasn’t sexy.

 _So much for “still straight”_ , Sam thought with a snort.

Gabriel smiled down at him. “Are you laughing at me, Sam Winchester?” His voice was deeper and slower than Sam had ever heard it, almost drugged.

Sam pulled his finger out of his mouth slowly, and Gabriel groaned. “Maybe,” he said at last.

“You are insufferable,” said Gabriel, unable to resist pressing down onto Sam.

“Did I seriously,” he said roughly, “just get called insufferable -- by _Loki_ \-- who is currently -- nngh -- grinding in my lap?”

Gabriel stilled, looking sheepish, and Sam grabbed his hips to return the pressure. “I didn’t say to _stop_.”

Gabriel just looked at him for a moment, then shoved him to his back on the platform.

“Oof,” he said as his head knocked against the wood, but then Gabriel’s mouth was on his, and warm fingers were sliding up Sam’s shirt, and he quickly forgot about the ache in his skull.

“Fuck, Gabe,” he groaned.

“That’s the idea,” Gabriel growled against his lips.

“Wait, Gabe,” Sam said, putting his hand over the angel’s. “I’ve never --”

Gabriel pulled back, and the predatory look was gone from his eyes. “We don’t have to, Sam-o-mine,” he said. “And as appealing as it would be to throw you down on your knees right here, I’m not a fan of splinters. But… do you want to stop?”

“No,” Sam said without hesitation, pulling Gabriel back down. “Jesus fuck, no.”

“Good,” Gabriel whispered, biting Sam’s lower lip, and Sam moaned. Gabriel pressed his thigh between Sam’s legs. “I swear to God, if you keep making those noises I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”

Sam let out a shaky laugh. “Can you ever, dude?”

Gabriel leaned in closer, kissing him deeply. Sam whined and pulled impatiently at Gabriel’s shirt, and Gabe broke the kiss long enough to let him yank it off. Gabriel manhandled him until he was sitting upright, tugging off his shirt as well.

They sat in silence for awhile, Sam raking his fingers through Gabriel’s hair and down his back and Gabriel tracing the musculature of Sam’s chest worshipfully.

“So gorgeous,” he whispered, sincerity evident in his voice. “So perfect.”

Sam replied by leaning forward and attaching his lips to Gabriel’s neck, using teeth and tongue to suck a line of bruises down his collarbone. Gabriel’s hips jerked up of their own accord, and he dropped his head onto Sam’s shoulder.

He trailed his fingertips down Sam’s back, feeling goosebumps forming at his touch. “Too many layers,” he murmured hoarsely, running his fingers under the waistband of Sam’s jeans. “Can I --?”

Sam bit down once hard on Gabriel’s shoulder, eliciting a gasp, then leaned back. After a confusing tangle of legs and fabric, in which Gabe very nearly kicked Sam in the jaw -- “Sorry, sorry,” Gabriel gasped. “I have a newly-vested interest in the functionality of your mouth” -- they managed to kick their jeans off and settle back together with just their boxers between them.

“Not that I don’t want to lay you out naked,” Gabriel growled, “but I doubt getting splinters in your ass would improve my chances with it.”

“And we’re in public,” Sam reminded him. “Not that we’re not already pretty well past the line of public indecency at the moment.”

“Well, it is Florida,” Gabriel agreed.

They rocked together faster, breathing coming in hitches and moans. “Gabe,” Sam hissed. “Gabe, fuck --”

“I told you,” Gabriel gasped. “Later,” but he reached down and wrapped his hand around both of them, slightly awkward over the fabric. Sam shuddered. He twisted one hand in Gabriel’s hair and snaked the other between them, wrapping it around Gabe’s much smaller hand.

“Oh, God,” Gabe choked out. “Sammy, I can’t --” Sam squeezed hard one last time and Gabriel came with a cry, and the sight of Gabriel arching back with the moonlight shimmering in his golden eyes pushed Sam over the edge.

They collapsed back on the platform, Gabriel half-sprawled on top of Sam, ignoring the sticky fabric between them, and lay breathing heavily for a few minutes.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam said eventually, opening his eyes.

“Like I said,” Gabe murmured, “not quite.” Sam rolled his eyes and shoved at him playfully. “I knew I’d have occasion to appreciate those giant man-hands, little moose,” he said.

Sam snorted and looked around. “I can’t believe we just defiled a children’s playground.”

“Not exactly what I was imagining for the first time I finally got to touch you,” Gabriel admitted.

“Well,” Sam said, “to be fair, given that you’re, you know, _you_ , it’s kind of appropriate.”

Finally the drying stickiness in their boxers began to get uncomfortable, and they gathered their scattered clothes and staggered back towards the motel. Sam had just retrieved the room key from the pocket of his jeans when the door to the room next door opened.

They froze, classic deer in headlights. Dean looked at them for a long moment, Impala keys in hand, at their flushed faces and obvious state of undress, skin marked with guilty bruises, a giant fucking panda dangling from Sam's free hand, then turned on the ball of his foot and disappeared back inside, slamming the door.

Sam and Gabriel stared at each other, then dissolved into hysterical laughter, leaning against the door.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean yelled from inside the room.

“G’night, jerk,” Sam called back as he finally got their door open. They collapsed into the room and onto one of the beds, still snorting occasionally.

“Oh, my God,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around Gabriel and wiping his eyes. “Revenge is a beautiful thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait for Sam & Gabe to finally get it on!
> 
> I feel like I'm neglecting Cas & Dean, but I couldn't leave Sam & Gabe hanging anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is in a mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the kudos and encouraging comments from you lovely folks, I decided to sit down and grind out (so to speak) another chapter this evening. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And on a scale from one to smut, this chapter is... pretty far from one.
> 
> Rating: E

Dean strode back into the room and slammed the door. Castiel looked up from the book he was reading in bed.

“Dean, I thought you were going to -- mmph.” Dean tore the book out of his hands and threw it across the room, pinning his shoulders to the headboard and kissing him roughly.

“Dean,” Cas finally gasped, coming up for air, “n-not that I’m unappreciative of its benefits to me, but are you going to be like this every time you see them together?”

“Like what?” Dean growled, yanking their boxers off and grinding his hips into Cas.

“B-blind -- blind rage?”

Dean reached down to press his hand between Cas’ legs. “Are you complaining?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas groaned.

Dean sighed and sat back slightly, but the feral look didn’t leave his face. “Cas, I know Sammy is a big boy, and if he’s happy with Gabriel, I will find a way to deal with it and be happy for them. In which case,” he said, leaning forward to suck hard at Castiel’s nipple, “I would like to take advantage of this blind rage while I have it,” and bit not entirely gently at the other nipple, “and fuck you ‘til you scream. Unless you have further objections.”

Cas hissed and shut his mouth.

“Good boy,” Dean murmured, pinning Cas’ wrists over his head with one hand. “Good little angel.” On a whim he grabbed one of Castiel’s ties from the bedside and wrapped it around his wrists, then looped it over the headboard. He made sure Cas’ circulation was fine -- though, he reminded himself, _angel of the Lord, dude_ , probably not to be overcome by a _necktie_ \-- then moved down to look at the angel’s face. His eyes were wide and slightly scared, but definitely full of lust.

“You OK with this?” he asked, and Cas nodded his head feverishly. “And you’ll tell me if you want me to stop? Or slow down or untie you?”

“ _Yes_ , Dean,” he grated out. “Please -- please, t-touch me --”

“Hmm,” Dean said, letting his lips hover centimeters over his burning skin. “What if I don’t? What if I kept you like this all night?” He breathed a line down Castiel’s hipbone. “Would you stay hard for me all night?”

Cas was so hard his cock was jerking, his breath high and stuttering. When Dean let his bottom lip brush along the underside he arched up, so that his cock slid against Dean’s cheek, and Dean grabbed his thighs and forced them back to the bed.

“No, I don’t think so, do you?” he said, almost conversationally. He dragged his lips more firmly along his length, letting his tongue dance lightly over the head. “Don’t come yet, OK? Can you do that for me?” he purred. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you come soon… and _then_ I’m going to fuck you. Is that OK?”

Cas bit his lip hard and choked out, “I’ll -- I’ll try.”

“You’ll try what?”

“I’ll try -- not to come -- until you let me, Dean.”

“Hmm,” he said, licking a lazy stripe down. “That’s good, Cas. That’s very good.”

He moved lower to mouth at Castiel’s balls, which were wound so tight Dean knew he had to be fighting an orgasm desperately. In some hazy, distant corner of his mind Dean was sincerely impressed; Cas’ entire body was practically vibrating, and Dean was fairly sure he wouldn’t have been able to hold out this long.

“So good,” he whispered, moving back up. “So beautiful, so good for me.” He traced circles on the head with the tip of his tongue.

“Dean, Dean, I -- _please_ \--” Cas sounded close to tears.

Dean looked up at him, not loosening his grip on his thighs. “Come, angel,” he said, and wrapped his lips around his cock, and instantly Castiel went rigid, mouth open in a silent scream, coming so hard Dean had to swallow constantly to keep from choking.

Dean licked every drop from Cas’ skin then crawled up his body, placing kisses in reverent patterns on his skin. He leaned down and pulled Castiel into a long kiss, sweet but sharp, and when he pulled back the expression in his eyes was shifting between soft and predatory.

“Do you want me to untie you?” he asked, gently rubbing Cas’ wrists, and to his surprise Cas shook his head.

“N-not yet,” Cas said roughly, nuzzling his face against Dean’s. “Are -- are you going to fuck me?”

“Yes,” said Dean simply. “I still intend to make you scream. Is that OK?” Cas bit his lip and nodded, drawing Dean’s attention to a small smear of blood where he had bitten through slightly.

“Hey,” Dean said, taking the angel’s face between his hands and licking the blood away. “You know you can say no, OK? If it’s too much or too soon?”

Castiel nodded. “I want to,” and when Dean looked into his eyes he saw fear there, yes, but he saw swirls of love and trust and desire so clear it took his breath away.

“OK,” Dean breathed. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Just… just give me a few?”

“Mm,” Dean agreed. He straddled Cas’ hips and let his hands explore his body, smoothing down his back and tracing the lines of his stomach. For a moment Dean felt like he could read Castiel’s body like poetry, the rhyme in his hipbones and lyrics in his eyes --

Dean shook himself, flushing with private embarrassment.

Cas was watching him with half-lidded eyes, pressing into the touches. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick and honest.

Dean leaned down and pressed a long, unhurried kiss to Castiel’s mouth, deep and searching. “Love you,” he said, then froze, because where the fuck did _that_ come from?

Cas' eyes went wide, and despite his helpless posture the shadowy outline of wings appeared on the wall behind him.

“Uh,” Dean said, leaning back, the fight-or-flight instinct thrumming in his blood. Cas’ eyes were open and nervous now, with a vulnerability Dean had never seen there before.

The look on Castiel’s face snapped some tension inside Dean. He dropped to his elbows and stretched out so he was lying along the length of Cas’ body, catching at his lips again, wet and needy. “I love you, God help me, Cas, Castiel, angel-mine, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

The wings flared bright and solid for a second before fading away, and Dean felt like the synapses in his brain were on fire.

Cas wrapped his legs around Dean and writhed underneath him, like he was trying to melt into his body. “Always,” he groaned, “always loved you. Loved you the moment I saw your soul, loved you more than Heaven, loved you more than God.” Dean kissed him again and realized they were both shaking, their bodies vibrating together.

“Dean,” he said, his voice high and broken, “please, I -- I need to feel you inside me, please --”

“Are you sure?” he asked against Cas’ lips.

“Yes, please,” Cas begged, “please, I -- _please_.”

Dean finally broke away from Cas’ mouth, taking deep, steadying breaths, and leaned over to retrieve the bottle of lube. His heart was hammering in his chest, and Jesus Christ, he didn’t think he was this nervous and excited when he lost his fucking virginity.

He crawled down and settled back between Cas’ legs, and oh, yes, Cas was ready, if the state of his cock was any indication, and Dean was harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“OK,” he said, drizzling lube on his fingers. “OK. Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop.” Cas nodded, and Dean slowly slipped one finger inside. Cas’ breath hitched. “Good?” he asked.

Cas licked his lips. “I,” he croaked, “I think so. Feels -- strange.” Dean twisted his finger and Cas gasped. “Oh,” he said shakily. “Oh.”

Dean carefully added a second finger, watching Castiel’s face for any sign of pain, then a third. “You ready?” he asked, running his hand down Cas’ sweat-slicked stomach.

Cas licked his lips again and nodded. Dean shifted up to align himself with Cas’ body, and began to press in.

“Wait,” Cas gasped. “Wait, wait.”

Dean froze instantly, wide-eyed. “Cas? You OK? You want me to stop?”

“No, no -- yes, no --” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m OK. Just, w-would you untie my hands? I want -- I want to be able to touch you.”

Dean went almost dizzy with affection for the angel. “Yeah,” he said, and climbed up his body, dropping kisses in a line up his stomach. He unknotted the tie and rubbed gently at the slightly red marks.

“Feel OK?” he asked, dropping a kiss on each wrist.

“Yes,” Cas grated. “Now, please, fucking -- fuck me -- _now_.”

A shadow of the feral expression in Dean’s eyes returned. “Bossy, aren’t you, when you’re not tied up? I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he growled, pinning Cas’ hands to the bed again briefly as he leaned down to take a wet and dirty kiss. He settled himself back between Cas’ knees, pouring more lube on his cock. He kept his eyes on Castiel’s as he pushed in slowly, fighting the desire to sink in all at once, when Cas did it for him, shoving himself all the way down.

“Oh, my God,” Dean gasped, stars dancing in front of him. “You little shit.” He dug his fingers into Cas’ ribs to still him, and the angel was fucking _smirking_ at him, and that was a strange expression juxtaposed with the blatant lust. 

“So that’s how you want it to be, hmm?” He lifted up both of Cas’ legs and put them on his shoulders. He pulled out nearly all the way, then slammed in to the hilt, and to his immense satisfaction Castiel sucked in his breath and let out an ear-splitting scream.

“You OK?” Dean ground out, and Cas reached out and locked a hand around Dean’s wrist.

“ _Don’t -- fucking -- stop_.”

Dean groaned and sped up, fucking Cas with an abandon he’d never felt before, and Cas was moaning and writhing and begging. Cas reached for his cock with his free hand and Dean knocked it away, pinning it to the bed as well.

“Wanna see you come untouched,” he managed. “Think you can do that for me?”

He shifted the angle of his hips and thrust up once, twice, a third time -- Dean slammed in deep one last time and they were gone, cursing and snarling, chanting each other’s names.

Dean collapsed onto Castiel’s chest, drawing deep shuddering breaths.

“Dean,” said Cas hoarsely after a few moments.

“Mmm,” Dean slurred.

“I can’t breathe.”

“Oof.” He carefully pulled out, then crawled up the bed to press against Cas’ side. Cas turned to face him.

“See,” Dean said smugly, “told you I’d make you scream.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Assbutt,” he said, shoving playfully at Dean’s shoulder.

They lay there smiling at each other for a few more moments, sated and happy. Then they heard the unmistakable sound of applause drifting through the wall.

“8.7 out of 10, I’d say,” came Sam’s voice in a professional tone. “Full marks for chemistry and composition, a bit sloppy at the end though.”

“Five stars, absolutely,” Gabriel announced. “Between the sharp dialogue and the passionate performances, I’d say this is a shoo-in for an Oscar nod.”

“Oh, my God,” said Cas, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You may be right after all, Dean. We may have created a monster.”

Dean pulled him close, and they wrapped their arms around each other as the sound of hysterical laughter floated through the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously this fic was intended to be more or less a sort one-off just to try my hand at writing. That escalated quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe plays nurse. Well, maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

Bobby’s call finally came the next morning. The coven had been pinpointed nearby, so Sam, Dean and Castiel were loading up the Impala. They had debated at length Gabriel accompanying them -- it was unsettlingly easy to forget that underneath his mischief and trickery and flirting ( _and soft lips and nimble fingers and_ \-- Sam cut his thoughts off there) that Gabriel was one of the most powerful beings in existence -- but Bobby eventually vetoed it. Gabriel wasn’t a hunter, had never hunted, and he reasoned that any show of Gabe’s pure power could attract a lot worse problems than a coven of witches.

To Sam’s surprise, Gabriel had reluctantly deferred to Bobby’s decision, though his eyes were tense and unhappy. And to Sam’s even greater surprise, Dean had remained neutral, instead of outright and adamant refusal; he suspected Cas may have had a hand in it.

Gabriel watched from the doorway as they threw the last of their supplies into the trunk, then reached out and yanked Sam into the room and slammed the door. A few minutes later he stumbled back out, dazed and red-faced. Dean stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Were we this bad?” he asked Cas.

“ _Were_?” Sam said in disbelief. “Fucking hypocrite.”

Dean snorted. He pretended to pick up a phone. “Hello, is this kettle? Yes, this is pot. You’re black.” Sam opened his mouth to object, then shut it. “Let’s do this, Sammy.”

\--

Gabriel had been pacing the motel room since he heard the Impala rumble off. He knew he was being ridiculous. He had watched his siblings fight and fall, seen the deaths of countless gods and men, many of whom he had called friends. But not when he was stuck here, in a shitty motel room, in fucking Florida.

Which was, again, ridiculous. He could easily, as Sam had so eloquently put it, “fuck off back to Egypt,” engage in any diversion he could come up with, and he was fully aware of his creativity in that department. Sam may well be expecting him to, and Dean was almost definitely hoping for it.

But he couldn’t seem to distract himself from the restless knot in his stomach until Sam was back. And Cas, and even Dean, he admitted grudgingly to himself, but it was Sam who occupied the focus of his attention.

And so here he was, pacing the floor like a fucking sailor’s wife. _Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill_ , he sang under his breath, and shivered.

Finally he heard the Impala pull into the parking lot and he threw open the door. His stomach lurched when he saw Dean hauling Sam out of the passenger side, pale and bloody. Except Dean and Castiel didn’t look panicked, only… irritated? Dean’s mouth was set in a hard line, and Castiel had adopted a fine imitation of a Sammy-bitch-face.

“What the fuck happened?” he finally said.

“We got the coven,” said Dean. “Fucking amateurs.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant.” His voice sounded hoarse and staccato, but he couldn’t quite care.

Dean sighed. “Bitch got him with her knife before we ganked her. We checked the knife and it was uncursed. It’s deep but clean.”

Gabriel rounded on Cas. “ _Why didn’t you heal him_?” he hissed.

“Because he wouldn’t fucking _let_ me,” Cas said in exasperation.

“What --?”

“He _said_ ,” Dean shouldered opened the door and manhandled Sam inside, depositing him on the bed, “he wanted _you_ to do it.”

“He said -- why the fuck didn’t you heal him anyway?” He sat down on the bed and started peeling off the blood-soaked t-shirt and jeans. Sam’s skin was hot and his breathing ragged.

Cas rolled his eyes. “His injuries weren’t critical, and in case you aren’t aware, Sam Winchester is not someone I want to be using my powers on against his will if I can help it. We… humored him.”

“You humored him. Jesus Christ, little moose,” he whispered, “I am going to be so fucking pissed at you in about five minutes.” Sam mumbled something incoherent and reached out for Gabriel.

“Should let him stew for a little bit for being such a fuckin’ bonehead,” said Dean.

“Believe me,” said Gabriel, with a short laugh, “it crossed my mind.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead, and within moments his injuries had healed, his breathing slowed and his face had lost its ashen pallor.

Gabe sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” Dean bristled and was clearly about to object. “Don’t worry, Dean, as soon as I’m done berating him for his touching if mind-boggling stupidity, I’ll bring him over and you can have your turn.”

Dean gave him a look he couldn’t quite read, then a short nod. “We’ll be next door.”

Cas and Dean turned to leave, and Gabriel called after them. “Hey,” he said. “I’m glad you guys are back.”

Dean exhaled. “Yeah. Me, too.”

As the door clicked shut he turned back to the giant form sprawled on the bed. “What the fuck were you thinking, Sammy?” he said, his voice a mixture of anger and tenderness.

Sam groaned and sat up slightly, rubbing at his eyes. “Dunno,” he said, his voice raspy but coherent. “Just wanted to be with you, to feel it from you, I guess.”

“That’s very sweet, but you won’t feel much of anything from me if you’re _dead_.” He sighed. “I wish I’d insisted on coming, I could have done something.”

Sam snorted. “Yes, you undoubtedly could have. And in doing so you’d have brought half the monsters in the state right to us. Bobby was right, dude.” He put a hand to Gabriel’s face. “It’s OK. We got rid of the coven. I got hurt. I didn’t die, and now I’m all right. That’s just how it goes.” He paused. “Except for the times we do die, I guess.”

“Yeah, well.” Gabriel twined his fingers with Sam’s. “I’m still pissed at you.”

“It was dumb,” Sam admitted. “I wasn’t thinking straight. In my defense, I _had_ just gotten stabbed. And I may have been a little unfocused this morning, thanks to _somebody_ in this room.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Gabriel protested. “You are _not_ getting off like that.” He paused, and his eyes slipped down Sam’s form sprawled across the bed. “Well,” he amended, “I guess you _could_ get off like that...”

Sam smirked. “That easy, huh?” Gabriel scowled at him, and Sam held up his hands. “OK, OK, I’m sorry I made you worry! Let me make it up to you?” he said, with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Gabriel grinned. “Dork,” he said affectionately, running his fingertips across Sam’s body. “And how might you do that, hmm?”

Sam squirmed, slightly embarrassed at how quickly that got him hard. “Gabe,” he said, “if you don’t have one or two or fifty ideas about that, then I have severely underestimated your imagination.”

Gabriel climbed on the bed so his knees were on either side of Sam’s hips and leaned forward on his hands. “Yes,” he said, with a deep, heated kiss, “I do.” He pulled away with a nibble, then dropped his knees so his body was flush with Sam’s. “But,” he murmured, kissing his way down Sam’s stomach, grinding into him, “so, I think, do you.”

He sat up, pressing into Sam's lap, and slid his fingers into the waistband of Sam's boxers, toying with the fabric without pulling it down. Sam's breathing was shallow and he twisted his hands in the sheets.

"Uh," he said. Gabriel just cocked his head at him, sliding his hands further down the skin of Sam’s hips. “I thought -- I thought I was supposed to be m-making up to you…”

The predatory smile dropped from Gabe’s face and his eyes went soft and warm. He leaned down again and traced Sam’s lips with his thumbs and jawline with index fingers, smoothed one hand over his ribcage and the other down his arm, lacing their fingertips. The same worshipful expression was on his face that Sam had seen the night before.

“You are, little moose,” Gabriel said softly, sincerely. “Believe me, you are.”

He hooked a finger back into Sam’s boxers and tugged gently, looking up questioningly. Sam shifted his hips slightly and gave him a pointed look.

“What?” Gabriel said blankly.

“Gabe, you’re, uh, kind of sitting on me.” Gabriel actually blushed for a second, and Sam felt a twinge of pride, wondering when the last time was that the Trickster had blushed.

“Well, you’re _distracting_ ,” he whined, and Sam twisted a teasing finger in his hair. Gabriel swatted it away.

He wiggled down Sam’s legs until he could tug his boxers off and toss them to the floor, then sat back on Sam’s shins and stared at him with open reverence.

“I lied to you,” he blurted. Sam tensed and his eyes went hooded. Gabriel shook his head. “No, no, I just meant -- the other night, when we were talking -- that Greek god and you, there really _is_ no comparison.”

Sam looked at him and smiled, feeling suddenly shy. 

“Gabe?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re wearing, like… way too many clothes.” Gabriel looked down at himself in mild surprise; he hadn’t actually registered that he was still fully dressed. 

“Well, that’s easily remedied,” he said with a crooked grin. In a flurry of limbs and fabric he managed to yank his shirt and jeans off without getting up, nearly falling off the bed once, in what was possibly the least graceful display of undressing Sam had ever seen. He settled himself back on his knees then realized Sam was gaping at him, shaking with suppressed laughter.

“What?” he said, insulted. “You asked me to!”

“Couldn’t you have like… twitched a finger and been rid of them?”

Gabriel shut his mouth.

“Oh, my God, dude,” he said, unable to contain himself. “You looked like a cross between, like… a dying fish and a tornado. You’re an _archangel_.”

Gabriel tried to glower at Sam but the laughter burbled out of his chest. He assumed an indignant posture. “I was going native, all right?” he huffed. “Fine, fine,” he said with a sigh, “have it your way,” and leaned forward to take Sam’s cock in his mouth all at once, humming in satisfaction when Sam’s snickering turned into a throaty groan.

“Holy fuck that’s not fair,” he breathed, and Gabriel looked up at him with raised eyebrows. He pulled off slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said politely, “would you like me to stop?” He rested his lips on Sam’s cock as if calmly awaiting a reply.

“ _No_ ,” Sam hissed.

Gabriel trailed a fingertip down his length, following wetly with his mouth. “Are you sure, Sammy?”

“Please,” he murmured.

“After all,” Gabe said, his tongue enunciating on the head, licking up drops of pre-come, “I don’t know if you’d want to get your cock sucked by,” he sucked gently, “a _dying fish_ and a _tornado_.”

“Jesus Christ you fucking evil -- I take it back,” Sam growled, disintegrating, clawing at Gabriel’s hand, “I take it back, you’re perfect, please touch me, _please_ \--”

Gabriel grinned up at him, satisfied and sweet. He stroked his hand up and down several times before taking him in all the way, then gripped the base tight while he licked back up slowly.

“Just punishment for scaring me today, Sam-o-mine,” he said, letting his vocal cords resonate, “seeing you like that.”

“Gabe,” Sam gasped, “Gabe, sorry, I’m sorry, Jesus, feels -- so good --”

Gabriel shuddered and his resolve finally deteriorated. He found his rhythm and it was less than a minute before Sam arched and tensed, and Gabriel distantly decided that there was nothing more beautiful in Heaven or Earth than the sound of Sam Winchester moaning his name when he came.

He pulled off gently and crawled up the bed, humming as he curled up listening to Sam’s breathing slowly return to normal. “Good?” he asked, nuzzling into Sam’s neck.

“So good,” Sam agreed. He dropped his hand onto Gabriel’s side and ran it down his hip. “Can I -- you want me to --”

“Mmm,” Gabe said, picking up Sam’s hand and wrapping it back around his neck. “I mean, yes, God, yes, but -- later,” he said contentedly.

Sam smiled at that. “Hey, Gabe?”

“Yeah, Sam-o?”

Sam paused. “How -- do you know how long you’ll hang around?”

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. “You can tell me to fuck off anytime, Sammy, and I promise I’ll go.”

“No,” Sam said quickly, turning to face Gabriel. “It’s just -- today, when we were hunting, I didn’t know if you’d still be there when we got back. It’s no excuse, but I think that’s part of why I wouldn’t let Cas heal me, like I wanted proof you were still real.”

Gabriel pulled Sam closer, pressing their foreheads together. He sighed. “Honestly, I never intended to stay at all. I planned to pop in, flirt annoyingly with my giant moose crush, try to cheer you up a bit, irritate our brothers, and return to hedonistic anonymity.”

Sam pulled back, frowning. “So why are you…?”

Gabriel looked at him, giving him an are-you-serious quirked eyebrow.

Sam swallowed. “So when -- if we -- are you going to --?”

Gabriel blinked at him several times before Sam’s words clicked. “Jesus Christ, no, Sam -- that’s what you think? Soon as I get to fuck you, I’m back off to Tahiti or something?” Sam half-shrugged. Gabe snorted. “Idiot. I mean, I’ve been trying to get in your pants since I’ve known you, and if you think I’m going to stop trying to get in your pants just because now maybe I _can_ then you’re spectacularly mistaken. But you’re so… you. And I didn’t --” he shrugged helplessly. “I can’t promise I won’t have to leave, I can’t promise -- well, any more than you can, I suppose. Nor that one of our brothers won’t angel-blade me in my sleep, possibly deservedly. But no, I… don’t want to go.”

Sam stared at him for a minute, then laughed softly. “You’re worse than Dean with these ‘chick-flick moments,’” he said. “You guys might actually get along someday.” He paused, then shuddered. “Fucking God forbid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNDER the wide and starry sky  
> Dig the grave and let me lie:  
> Glad did I live and gladly die,  
> And I laid me down with a will. 
> 
> This be the verse you 'grave for me:  
>  _Here he lies where he long'd to be;_  
>  _Home is the sailor, home from the sea,_  
>  _And the hunter home from the hill._
> 
> \- Robert Louis Stevenson, _Requiem_
> 
> \-- -- --
> 
> This is not, I don't think, one of my favorite chapters. Trying to keep personality distinct between characters and between porny scenes so it doesn't get repetitious. Comments/feedback/criticism delightfully welcome! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking games ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, most cliché trope ever. I was really bored at work today.
> 
> Clumsy chapter but it was fun.
> 
> Rating: T/M ?

"Threesome?" Dean said.

Gabriel snorted and drank. "I knew Caligula, Dean."

Dean nodded as he tilted his beer back, impressed.

"Veto," Sam and Cas said together, without taking their faces out of their hands.

"So," Dean said, "...horses?"

Gabriel choked as he swallowed. "In the first place, it's my turn. In the _second_ place, no. Jesus."

"Thank God," Dean said, shuddering.

No new leads had come through, and the four had tacitly agreed to stay put for the moment. They'd all become a little attached to the dingy motel, though Dean would never admit it, and after all, there were much worse ways to spend an evening than perched on an old Atlantic pier, working their way through a case of beer.

Sam was intensely relieved that Dean's resentment of Gabriel had thawed. After watching Gabriel care for his little brother, Dean seemed to come to a decision, and his animosity had melted into a reluctant acceptance. Sam had not, however, entirely anticipated the absolute horrorshow of indecency that resulted from a Dean-and-Gabe tag team.

"Have I mentioned how utterly inappropriate it is to play this game with your _brothers_?" Sam said.

"Once or twice," Dean said, grinning. "Gabe and I have to get to know each other, right, Sammy? You've known Cas almost as long as I have, but most of the time I've spent with Gabriel I was tryin' to kill him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I hardly think Never Have I Ever is the most logical place to start."

Castiel groaned. "I believe I have discovered the human quality called 'imagination,' and I am fairly certain that I dislike it."

"You guys just aren't drunk enough," Dean announced.

"Because you're prudes," Gabriel added.

"Dude," Sam said, affronted, "we're having sex with you guys. You can't call us prudes." He paused. "I think I just creeped myself out."

"Clearly not _enough_ sex," said Dean.

"Hmm," said Gabriel. "We need better questions."

Dean eyed Castiel. "Never have I ever been tied up."

Dean, Sam and Gabriel all drank. Cas' head came off his arms and he glared at Dean. Dean raised an eyebrow pointedly. Cas sighed and took a long drink, blushing.

Gabriel whistled. "You work fast, Dean-o," he said approvingly.

“Well, have you _seen_ what I have to work with?” He tilted his head towards Cas.

“Hmm…” Gabriel paused, considering. “Never have I ever had sex with an angel.” Dean swigged his beer. Gabe watched Sam, who was fiddling with his bottle uncertainly. Gabriel coughed.

“Well,” Sam said, “I mean, we haven’t actually, uh, you know…”

“Sam, your gorgeous cock has been so far down my throat I think you came in my esophagus. I think it’s fair to say we’ve had sex.”

“Dude!” Dean yelped, spilling his beer, and Sam took several gulps, hiding his embarrassment under Dean’s horror. “I can’t know that!”

“Goes both ways, Dean,” said Gabriel smugly. He looked around. “Like, I suppose, most of this little party.”

“Ugh,” Dean shuddered. “Fine. Never have I ever had sex with a demon, _Sam_.”

Sam shrugged and drank unconcernedly.

“That’s a story I need to hear,” said Gabriel with interest. “Never have I ever… had sex with a human?”

The other three, even Cas, rolled their eyes collectively, and they all drank.

“Creative, dude,” Sam said, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Shut up, I drew a blank! Not like you’re big on participation here!”

“Oh, I’m big on participation, Gabe,” Sam said, and was surprised to hear a snort of laughter from Castiel.

Cas looked between the brothers. “Never have I, uh. Never have I had sex in the Impala?”

“Just you wait,” Dean muttered as he drank, then noticed Sam trying to take a furtive sip. “Wait, what the fuck, Sammy?” Sam set his bottle down, looking anywhere but at Dean. Cas and Gabe suppressed snickers.

“Never have I ever had sex _on_ the Impala,” Gabriel said immediately.

Sam shot daggers at Gabriel and Dean stared at Sam as they drank. A beat passed, then Cas dissolved into outright giggles. Gabriel followed almost instantly, Sam and Dean not far behind.

“I have no idea whose team I’m on anymore,” Dean said, hiccupping.

“Well,” Sam said, “that, at least, is abundantly clear.”

Castiel sat up. “Never fallen under a Siren’s spell.”

Sam and Dean glowered at him and drank, and Gabriel raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “Nice one, Cassie.”

“Never had sex in the ocean, then,” Sam said, raising his bottle and quirking his eyebrow for Dean and Cas to follow. “Dean! You said --”

“I said I _tried_ to, not that I did.”

Cas frowned. “Dean, _you_ said you wouldn’t fuck me in the ocean. I was quite willing.”

Dean groaned, and Sam and Gabriel howled.

“I’m starting to like this game,” Sam said, snickering.

“I’ve never worn women’s underwear,” Dean shot back.

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Dude, I was _seven_!” Gabriel was staring at him appraisingly. “Gabe!”

Cas was looking between them all, tilting his head in that way that made Dean want to tear his clothes off. “What makes underwear women’s? Or men’s?”

Dean snorted. “Nothing, really, Cas. Women’s are usually, uh… smaller? Lacier? I dunno, I’ll show you sometime.” Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Shit. No, not like -- fuck, I hate this game.”

“I’d like to see you in lace, Dean,” Cas said matter-of-factly. Dean swiveled back to Cas and was about to give him an awkward lesson in _public versus private_ when he saw the smile twitching around his mouth.

“Oh, my God,” Dean said, burying his face in his hands. “You pick the worst moments to find your sense of humor.”

“This isn’t fair,” Sam said, poking Gabriel. “You’re impossible to embarrass.”

“Maybe,” Gabriel said. “But I wholeheartedly encourage you to try.” He winked, and Sam rolled his eyes. “And anyway, I’m always open to new ideas.”

“Is there even anything you haven’t done, Gabe?”

“There’s plenty of things I haven’t done _with you_ ,” Gabriel clarified, staring at Sam’s mouth with the subtlety of a semi truck.

Sam shifted, trying to ignore the stir of arousal in his belly. “No lacy underwear, dude,” he mumbled.

“Mm,” Gabriel purred, “you know how persuasive I can be, Sammy.”

“Never have I gotten it on _in front of my brother_ ,” Dean said with a pointed cough.

Sam blushed, then his head swiveled up. “Dude, you’ve been getting it on in front of me since I was a teenager, asshole.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest and then shut it guiltily. “Well, in _that_ case,” he drawled, throwing his leg over Castiel and leaning down to nibble his lower lip. Cas groaned and his hips jerked in reflex.

“You’re a good influence on my little bro, Dean-o,” Gabriel said.

“Mrph,” Dean said against Cas’ mouth. “Better not be a bad influence on _my_ little bro.

“Oh, I fully intend to be,” Gabriel said, pulling gently on Sam’s hair until he could duck his head and drop a sharp wet kiss to his throat. Sam hissed.

“At the risk of sounding like a prude,” he glared at Gabriel, “maybe we should retire to our rooms before this gets to whole new levels of weird and creepy. Three distracted voices grunted noncommittal replies. “Gabriel,” he said, and Gabe ignored him in favor of licking slow lines on his collarbones. “ _Gabe_ ,” he repeated, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “I would very much like you to get me naked and I would very much prefer for it not to be in front of our brothers.”

Gabriel pulled back and blinked at him for a beat, then they were gone. Dean laughed softly, not taking his mouth from Cas.

“So,” he said, hands wandering down Castiel’s back, “…how about the Impala?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets deep. So to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

Dean and Cas lay across the hood of the Impala, still slightly out of breath. They had managed to tug their boxers back on with boneless arms, and the fading heat that had been scorched into the metal all day was tingling under their skin. They passed a lazy lukewarm beer back and forth. As Dean stretched his body across his Baby, with his head tipped against Castiel’s shoulder, knowing that Sam was safe at the motel, a word crept along the edges of his consciousness, insinuated itself into his belly.

Dean shoved it away, locked it down. It was a dangerous word, an ugly word not allowed in the vocabulary of people like him. But Cas shifted, pulling him in closer so that his nose was filled with the smell of his angel and his car, the leftover tang of sex and the sweet salt wash, and Dean sighed, letting the word coalesce, rolling it around in his mouth.

He didn’t even understand what it meant, _happiness_. All his life his only priority had been taking care of Sammy. And he’d known Sam had needed him, so his own well-being factored in tangentially, like an afterthought. If Sam was okay, then he was okay, and any self-analysis beyond that seemed inconsequential.

And it was terrifying because he knew it couldn’t last, their little haven, because all havens get burned to the ground eventually. Soon they’d be back to fear and blood and loss, and the memory of this feeling would eat him up inside.

Dean shook himself. He looked over, and Cas was staring at the sky, his mouth moving soundlessly.

“Hey, Cas?” he said. He cleared his throat. “Hey, what’re you saying?”

Cas turned his head, with a soft but distant smile. “The stars, Dean. They seem nearer here, on the ocean. More themselves.”

Dean cocked his head. “They’re pretty clear in Kansas, I thought.”

Castiel hummed in assent. “Clear, yes. But they get… distracted. So many things -- so many people. Trees and houses. It’s overwhelming.”

Dean gestured vaguely towards the city lights, the neon of gift shop strip malls. “And this isn’t --?”

“It’s like,” Cas said, licking his lips. “It’s like the difference between when you have so many things in your head you can’t focus on any of them, and when you have so many things in your head but you can focus on what’s between them?” He paused. “I’m sorry. That didn’t make any sense.”

“So help me, I think it did,” Dean said. He laughed. “My angel boyfriend just accidentally psychoanalyzed me with a celestial metaphor.” Castiel smiled, letting his lips brush against Dean’s face. “So -- what were you saying, though? If, I mean, you can tell me, if it’s not some angel-secret.”

“No,” Cas said, “no secret. Hard to explain. I was… greeting them, I suppose.”

“Greeting them? D’you know their names?”

“Mostly not… in a way, it’s not unlike your human greetings. An acknowledgement, an expression of distant goodwill. I remember some, though. A few were… friends.”

“You were friends with _stars_ , dude?”

“I liked the Pleiades,” he said quietly. “They reminded me of my brothers and sisters.”

Sadness pooled in Dean’s chest, sadness for what the angel lost, sadness for what he could never make up for.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Cas said, twining their hands together. “You’re grieving for me. I’m grieving, too, I think,” he admitted. “I knew everything. I knew who I was, who I served. I knew what to do and I knew I was right.” He felt Dean stiffen and try to turn away, and reached out to hold him closer. “No,” he said. “You, this. I know this more than anything at all.”

Dean rolled on his side, facing Cas. He let himself be cocooned by Cas’ voice and scent and touch.

“Your soul is my Heaven, Dean,” Cas murmured against his lips. “Your body is the Earth. When you move inside me, I burn with the sun.”

Dean shuddered and his breath hitched. He was hard again already, impossibly, painfully, but it wasn’t exactly lust, at least not entirely. Hypersensitive, overstimulated and trembling, like he could feel every cell in his body. 

As he pressed his forehead against Castiel’s he realized with a shiver that he could see his wings again, but -- different, not a sharp vivid flash nor fleeting shadows, more like a constant that was tuned a degree off from everything else. He couldn’t focus on them intently, so he watched the stars through the feathers, and the stars looked like they belonged there, on the wings, shining on the blue-black.

He pulled his eyes back to Cas’, and fuck, he could see the same stars in his eyes, not reflections or suggestions but the constellations themselves. Something bright and unfamiliar coursed through his blood -- except it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, it was there, somewhere deep in his memory --

Dean went rigid.

“Cas?” he whispered, uncertain. “I think -- I think I feel your grace.”

Castiel froze and his eyes went wide. He lifted his arm slowly until it hovered over the long-faded handprint on Dean’s left shoulder, then fitted his hand into the outline he remembered exactly. Dean hissed and arched, fire slipping through his veins, and reached over to press his hand over Cas’ heart.

They stared at each other for a long moment, unmoving, breath coming in staccato.

“I see galaxies in you,” Dean said, his voice low and distorted. “I can _see_ them, and I see your wings, I, I don’t --”

Cas sucked in a breath but held himself still, then carefully, painstakingly curved his wings around until they flickered on Dean’s skin.

Dean dropped his head. The sensation on his back was so light it could have been the breeze except it lacked the neutrality of wind, the mathematical ebb and flow.

“Cas,” he whispered, “I need -- I feel like I’m breaking apart, I need you, I need you in me. Please.”

Castiel kissed him, shaky but steady, and reached down to pull their boxers off, his wings staying on skin. The need was tangible and sharp, but there weren’t any questions or assurances this time, no little games. He reached down with his other hand, pressed into Dean, and something inside opened to him easily. Dean groaned, murmuring shattered litanies into his ear.

Cas shifted him down the trunk of the car until he could align himself, then slid into him slowly and silently. Supernovas were going off in his wrists and stomach, exploding in his blood.

“Dean,” he said brokenly. “I don’t think I can move.”

“Good,” Dean hissed. “Good, please, don’t -- just need -- this, need this. It’s… so much.”

Cas stared at him, mouth slightly open. “I feel,” he whispered, choking, “I feel _everything_.”

They stayed locked together, gripping each other. Dean could feel Cas pulsing inside him -- _inside_ him, yes, and that was beyond incredible, but everywhere, in arteries and sinews, bone marrow and brain matter, and his cock jerked with its rhythm.

Castiel was murmuring in languages long dead and forgotten, and Dean let the words wash over him like prayers, winding through him, and the pulsing inside intensified with their cadence, his shoulder burning under Cas’ hand.

Dean reached up to cover Cas’ hand with his own shaking one. Cas bowed his head against Dean’s and tightened his grip on his shoulder and they came together with a cry, motionless, ruined and on fire.

They stayed pressed together for long moments, taking deep shuddering breaths. “Cas?” Dean finally whispered, but Castiel just shook his head slowly. He kept his wings wrapped around them and they let themselves stay there, under the benediction of the stars, thoughts drifting with the shifting tides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too slow/serious/cheesy? Stick to porn/humor? Are the tone switches disconcerting? Please advise!
> 
> Your comments keep me writing. <3
> 
> Well, and whiskey. Your comments and whiskey.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just stoppin' by to drop off a couple thousand words of Sabriel porn.
> 
> \--
> 
> [I posted this last night, but upon rereading the ending sucked so I deleted and tried to make it better; I'm still not so good with the pure smut. So apologies if you had read already and were expecting a new chapter instead of a small rewrite!]
> 
> Rating: E

Sam staggered slightly and his legs hit the edge of the bed. He sat down with a grunt.

“Jesus, Gabe! You could fucking warn me!”

“Well, you _asked_ ,” Gabriel said. “Be glad I didn’t blink you back here naked.”

“Your restraint is admirable,” Sam grumbled, shaking off the disorientation.

Gabriel smiled at him. “Lucky for you, the only thing that surpasses my desire to have you naked,” he said, “is my desire to _get_ you naked.”

Sam gave him a perfunctory eye-roll and settled back on the bed with mild apprehension, but Gabriel just sat across from him staring at him so long that Sam began to feel shy.

“Uh,” Sam said, clearing his throat, “wasn’t there something mentioned about getting me naked?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Impatient?” he said in a slightly hoarse voice that definitely went straight to Sam’s dick. He tried to stutter a denial, but it died on his tongue when Gabriel’s eyes drifted down to linger on his obvious erection. He blushed.

Gabriel reached out and ran a hand down the side of Sam’s leg. “Last time I got to peel your clothes off, they were soaked in your own blood,” he said. “Allow me to savor the moment.”

He leaned in and kissed Sam softly, slipping his fingertips under the collar of his shirt. His fingertips drifted over Sam’s collarbones and slid down his spine, finally coming up to twist in his hair. He sucked on Sam’s lip and Sam groaned.

“Gabe,” he whispered, reaching out. “Gabe, _please_ …”

Gabriel inhaled sharply, but he kept his voice steady, his hands steady. “What do you want, little moose?”

“More, please,” he said, and all Gabriel’s careful intentions shifted and flickered.

“Sammy,” he said, reaching down to tug at Sam’s shirt. “You’ll tell me to stop if -- ?”

There was a pause, and then a quick whirlwind of motion. Gabriel found himself pinned under Sam, and staring up into his eyes Gabe reminded himself to not discount the many layers there were to Sam Winchester.

Gabriel smirked up at him. “I like this side of you, Sammy-boy,” he announced. “In that case…” He reached out to pull Sam down and kissed him with purpose, making full use of lips and tongue and teeth, and when he ran his fingernails down Sam’s back their hips jerked together. Sam bit down on Gabriel’s lip hard enough to taste a hint of blood, and Gabriel hissed.

“Okay, then,” he said. He yanked Sam’s shirt over his head without preamble and fumbled with his belt.

Sam grinned. “Done savoring the moment?” he said into Gabe’s mouth.

“Mm,” Gabriel agreed. “Now I want to savor some more moments.”

Sam rolled off Gabriel so he could work on his jeans. Gabriel took the opportunity to pull his own shirt off before returning to Sam, but his hands stilled on the waistband when Sam’s mouth found his nipple.

“Jesus, Sammy,” he gasped. “You’re going to kill me.”

“That would be quite a feat,” Sam murmured, and his hand came up to tug at his other nipple.

“You are asking for trouble,” Gabriel warned him, breathing ragged.

Sam snorted without taking his mouth from skin. “Dude, I’m a Winchester,” he said. “I like trouble almost as much as _you_ do.”

“That sounds like a challenge, little moose,” Gabriel whispered. Sam looked up into the depth of his amber eyes, and for a moment hints of his true nature seemed to flicker in the air. _Angel_ , said a voice in the back of his head. _Archangel, Trickster, Loki. Be very fucking careful what you’re playing at_. Eddies of fear threaded their way through the arousal in his blood, but Gabriel looked down at him, and while his eyes were dark with lust and other things Sam couldn’t define, there was no malice there.

“Have it your way.”

Sam found himself suddenly flipped over on his back, naked and unable to move his hands and feet, though Gabriel had sat back, also naked but not touching him. He struggled against the invisible restraints, cursing.

“What the fuck, Gabe? You promised no tricks --”

Gabriel smirked. “In the first place, I promised you I wouldn’t trick you into seduction, and I hope it’s not just my overinflated ego suggesting that _that_ little train left the station a few orgasms ago. And in the second place, that get-out-of-jail-free card was only good for one night, Sammy-boy, and this,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, “is going to be _so much fun_.” He paused, watching the expressions fighting in Sam’s eyes: anger, fear, lust, shallow-breathed need. He sighed.

“Sam,” he said, leaning over and tracing his thumb across Sam’s ribs. He felt Sam shiver under his touch. “I am not ever going to make you do anything. Do you believe me?” Sam stared at him in narrow-eyed appraisal, then bit his lip and nodded. Gabriel exhaled in relief. “Good,” he said. “I would like to touch you like this. Just because I want to. I want to very, very badly right now.

He kept his touches light and chaste, running his fingers over hair and skin, ignoring how hard and jerking Sam was.

“Yes,” Sam finally got out. “Yes, okay, I believe you, I -- I trust you.”

Gabriel’s face lit up, and Sam couldn’t help but let out a rough laugh at the expression on Gabriel’s face, a mix of predatory cat and child in a candy store.

“Thank God,” he said, clambering up Sam’s body to suck at his throat. “If I’d had to stop I really might have fucking died.” He let his mouth explore Sam’s, hands pressing against bones and muscles and heartbreakingly golden-brown skin.

“Gabe,” Sam finally growled, “if you don’t touch my cock I’m rescinding all trust.”

Gabriel grinned at him. “No take-backs,” he said, but he shifted his body until their cocks slid together, pinned between them. Sam arched and moaned, and all the archangelic grace in Heaven could not stop Gabriel from reciprocating.

“You are too fucking tall,” he whispered. “It’s fucking hard to reach your dick and your mouth at the same time.”

Sam snorted breathlessly. “Dude, there are -- oh, God -- too many jokes in that sentence -- for me to pick one right now.” Gabriel opened his mouth but Sam cut him off. “And if you say you must be _rubbing off_ on me we are so done.” Gabriel shut his mouth and contented himself with grinding down on Sam.

Sam bit back a cry. “Gabe,” he groaned incoherently. “Gabe, Gabe --”

Gabriel reached down tentatively. “Can I --?” he whispered, sliding his fingers between Sam’s legs. “Or do you want --?”

“Um,” Sam said, swallowing hard. “Uh -- o-okay.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I mean -- you can -- um.”

Gabriel stared at him for a long moment. Against his every instinct screaming at him to take his permission and run with it, he leaned forward, tracing his fingertips over Sam’s jawline.

“I’ll stop,” he said quietly. “If you want me to, I’ll stop. Or you could fuck me, or neither. But I’ll make it good for you, if you want me to.”

Sam’s breathing hitched, and he looked up at Gabriel with wide, nervous eyes. Gabriel ran his hand through Sam’s hair and waited, and finally he nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Yes. Please.”

Gabriel’s hips jerked of their own accord at Sam’s words. “Oh, God,” he said, pressing his forehead into Sam’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I could have done to deserve you, but it was probably an accident.”

Sam choked out a laugh. “Probably,” he agreed. Gabriel grinned at him brightly and began kissing down his chest. “Uh,” he said. “Gabe. I’m still, uh.” He jerked at his hands and feet, still immobilized.

Gabriel looked at him blankly for a moment, then flushed. “Oh,” he said with a slightly hysterical snicker. “You, uh. Sorry.”

Sam flexed his limbs and smiled crookedly. “Next time, maybe?”

Gabriel sucked in a breath. “You need to be careful, little moose,” he whispered. “Do you have any _idea_ how much self-control I have to exercise around you?”

“You have self-control?” Sam said with interest. Gabriel looked at him, and for the first time he didn’t bother to rein in the desire in his eyes. Sam’s breath hitched. “Oh,” he said. “Uh. Oh.”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Shockingly, I do. And you are the primary recipient of it, and I am seriously starting to doubt my self-restraint.” His mouth wandered down Sam’s stomach. He licked down hipbones, further, dragging his tongue over Sam's length, lower and lower between his legs --

“Oh God, wait,” Sam bit out, and Gabriel froze.

“Should I stop?" he said.

“No,” Sam said. “Please, um. I just." He took a calming breath. "O-okay."

The predatory look came back into Gabriel’s eyes, but he swallowed. “Can I?” he whispered.

“Fuck. Y-yes. Yes, please.”

Gabriel let out a shattered moan. He slipped a finger into Sam, and oh, fuck, he had no qualms using his grace for this, not at all. Two fingers, three, and --

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. Sam nodded, and Gabriel’s heartbeat went erratic. His power flared, coalescing around him, and with the last of his coherence he told it to fuck right off. And so he slid into Sam simply, humanly, gasping and fumbling.

“Oh God,” he said, stilling his hips and brushing his hand over Sam’s cock. “Oh, God. Sammy,” he said, begging, “Sammy, please, can I --”

Sam took several deep breaths. It hurt, it burned, but it still felt good, strangely, hot and hard. 

“Jesus,” he grated.

Gabriel choked out words with great effort. “I want -- I want to make this so good for you. You feel -- so fucking good, don't know if I can --" 

"Not -- gonna last either," Sam managed. "Please -- please fuck me."

Gabriel closed his eyes. Out of desperation he gave into his power to stop himself from coming right there at Sam's words.

Once he had some semblance of control over himself, he pulled out halfway. Pausing, he gripped Sam’s hips under his hands and stared down at him, then thrust in to the hilt. Sam arched and screamed as Gabriel hit his prostate, reaching down blindly to grip the base of his cock, fighting back the teetering orgasm, because this couldn’t end yet, no way.

“There we are,” Gabriel whispered, but there was no snark in his voice, bare and breathless.

He found a rhythm as slow as he could manage, almost dissolving when Sam wrapped his long legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

“Oh, God, Sammy-boy,” he choked. “You can’t _do_ that -- I can’t --”

“Please, Gabriel, please, I can’t I need oh God so good I need, I need --”

Gabriel moaned, and some very, very small detached part of his brain that was still somehow functioning watched in awe at the sight of Sam unraveling beneath him. He put his hand over Sam’s mouth to stop his broken chanting, because there’s no _way_ he could be expected to live through that, but it was too late.

“Sammy,” he begged. “Please, please come for me, I can’t hold on anymore.”

Sam arched and shoved himself down as hard as he could, yanking Gabriel’s hand from his mouth, and finally he came with a sob, twitching and jerking. Gabriel threw his head back and followed immediately, static buzzing in his ears. He collapsed across Sam’s body.

“Umph,” he groaned, still shuddering.

“Nrgh,” Sam agreed, stroking a hand bonelessly down Gabriel’s back. “That was, uh. Yeah.”

Gabriel dragged his cheek off Sam’s chest and half-flopped up Sam’s body until their faces were pressed together. Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jesus, dude,” he said, tilting his forehead to Gabe’s. “You’re like -- like a caterpillar or something. Or a sloth.”

“Your post-coital pillow-talk could use some work,” Gabriel mumbled. “God, you’ve wrecked me. And I’m supposed to be an _archangel_.”

“And I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Sam pointed out with a smug, sleepy smirk.

“We have all night, little moose,” he said, pulling Sam closer to him. “All night.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets bossy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E

"May I tie you up, Dean?" Cas said, without taking his eyes from the television.

Sam and Dean choked on swallows of beer and Gabriel burst out laughing. 

"Jesus Christ," Dean said, wiping his mouth. "Subtle you ain't."

"Aaaand I think that's our cue, little moose," Gabriel said, standing up. "We'll bow ourselves out, shall we?" He tugged on Sam's hand. Sam shook himself out of his horrorstruck paralysis and stumbled out the door without a word.

Castiel watched them go, then turned to Dean, blinking at him owlishly. "I found I enjoyed it when you bound my hands," he said.

"And you wanna know what it feels like from the other side? To do the tying?"

Cas nodded, his face unreadable.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah," he said, his voice slightly rough. "We can do that."

They had been spending a lazy afternoon watching reruns of the Golden Girls, and Dean resolutely did _not_ want to know what connections were firing in Cas' strange angel brain to make the leap from Betty White to bondage.

Dean's mind drifted to the predatory look that occasionally flickered across Castiel's features, and the way his voice dropped even fucking lower when he took control. He shivered in anticipatory trepidation, and, yup, instantly hard.

"What did you like about having your hands tied?" he asked.

Cas tilted his head and bit his lip, considering. Dean shifted uncomfortably, pressing his palm into his crotch. Cas raised his eyebrow but didn't comment.

"I liked being in your control," he said finally. "Especially because you were angry. You could do anything you chose to me and I'd have to accept it... it was very arousing."

"And you want me under you like that?"

"Yes," Cas said. "Under my hands."

Dean groaned. He felt himself slipping instinctively into a more submissive posture, hands clasped lightly and head lowered.

"How do you want me?" he whispered. "Like you were?"

Cas stared at him, raking his eyes over his body, appraising. Dean felt a blush begin to creep up his neck.

"Get on your knees," he said finally. Dean scrambled to obey. He tugged questioningly at the hem of his t-shirt, and at Cas' nod he jerked it over his head, but Cas stopped him when he reached for the waistband of his boxers. “No,” he said. “Leave them on for now.”

Dean nodded, the color in his face intensifying. His erection was jerking visibly through the fabric, under a small growing stain of precome, and he couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. He felt somehow more exposed than if he were fully naked, and from the look on his face Castiel was quite aware of that.

“Is there anything you _aren’t_ good at?” he said with a forced laugh.

Cas threaded his fingers in Dean’s hair and tugged, pulling his head back. He leaned in, letting his lips brush over Dean’s ear.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he whispered, and bit down once on Dean’s neck, quick and hard. Dean moaned, and Cas yanked on his hair. “Be quiet,” he snapped. “I’m only telling you once.” Dean bit his lip and nodded.

Cas sat back and stared at him. “So beautiful,” he said. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Dean obeyed and bowed his head, eyes closed and breathing erratic. Castiel fumbled through the piles of clothes strewn about the room and finally came up with a fistful of neckties.

“Keep your eyes open, Dean,” he said. “I want to see your face while I take you apart.” Dean couldn’t quite suppress a growl of desire, and was rewarded by a sharp slap to his ass. “Don’t want to gag you,” Cas murmured. “Much better things to do with your mouth.”

Dean had never really considered himself strongly submissive or dominant; he could take on either role as fit the circumstances, and thoroughly enjoyed both. But his angel in this mood was definitely hitting buttons Dean hadn’t even known he’d had. He focused on taking deep, calming breaths as Castiel wrapped the cool silk around his wrists, twisting and knotting with sure fingers.

He jerked in surprise when he felt strong arms encircle him, one around his waist and the other covering his mouth, and soft lips pressed against his spine. “Love you,” Cas whispered into his neck. “Love you, love you.” Dean’s head fell back, and he was eternally fucking grateful for the hand muffling his noises. He felt Cas smile against his skin. “See,” he whispered. “I am not without mercy.”

Dean nodded in frantic agreement, but he changed his mind very goddamn quickly when Castiel slid his other hand down into his boxers and around his cock, not moving, just squeezing gently. He arched and thrashed, desperately trying to throw off the hand over his mouth so he could beg good and proper and shameless.

“Remember,” Cas said, stroking his thumb over jawline, “I’ve told you to be quiet.” But Dean was too far gone to pay attention, and as soon as the hand slid away the words were tumbling out.

“Please,” he gasped. “Please, Cas, fuck, please, I --”

But instantly the hands and body were gone, and Dean felt actual hot tears spring to his eyes at the loss of contact. He bit down hard on his tongue, willing himself to stop the jumble of pleas and obscenities on his lips.

“You can’t even follow simple requests, Dean?” Cas whispered, cool and soft. “Are you trying to push me?” Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head mutely. “I should gag you,” Cas said matter-of-factly, reaching down to snag another tie. He took one end in each hand, stretching it flat, and rubbed it across Dean’s mouth. Dean opened his mouth obediently and Cas dragged the silk over his tongue, wrapping the ends behind his head and holding them there for a few long moments before dropping them, so the tie hung loosely from Dean’s lips.

Cas stood up and stripped, then pulled Dean to the edge of the bed, letting him take him into his mouth. He looked down and, fuck, he was pretty sure everything was backfiring, because he was watching Dean swallow his cock with silk trailing out of his mouth and down his chest and oh, God, he couldn’t handle it but he couldn’t make him stop.

Finally he wrenched himself off. “Good,” he said, breathing hard. “So good.”

He circled back around and knelt on the bed, shifting Dean back against him and yanking boxers down his thighs. “Going to fuck you now,” he said in Dean’s ear, pushing his head to the mattress.

Dean groaned softly but didn’t reply. Cas smiled.

“You can talk if you want to,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Dean growled. “Yes, fuck, please. Cas, yes.”

Cas shuddered. He groped behind him, found a pillow and threw it under Dean’s head. Licking his index finger, he pushed it into Dean’s body.

“I love you like this,” he said, brokenly. “I love you always but you’re _mine_ like this.” He added more fingers, more pressure, twisting and stretching. “I wish you could see yourself. So needy, so pliant for me.”

Finally Cas pulled his fingers out. He caught Dean’s bound wrists in one hand and wrapped the other around his hip. Dean whined.

“No lube,” he whispered, pressing the head of his cock against Dean’s ass. “Can you take it?” He licked a bead of sweat dripping down his spine.

“Yes,” Dean hissed. “Yes, please, Cas, I can, I swear --”

“I love it when you beg,” Cas said. “Begging for me. Dean Winchester, on his knees and begging for my cock. Is that right?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dean gasped. “Please, Cas, give it to me. I can take it, I swear, I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“I know,” he said simply. He shoved Dean’s legs as far apart as he could, restricted by the boxers around his knees, and slowly, carefully, slid himself inside.

Dean whimpered and tried to push himself down. “I’m not a fucking doll, Cas,” he growled. “I said I can take it.”

Cas slapped his ass again, hard, twice. “You’ll take what _I give you_ ,” he corrected. “Or I won’t give you anything at all.”

“Sorry,” Dean gasped. “Yes, sorry, sorry. I’m yours, yours, give me what you want.”

Cas pushed in further, until he was fully inside, then stilled himself. “Beg me for it,” he whispered.

“Oh, God,” Dean choked, his face burning. “Please fuck me, Cas. Please, I’m begging you, I need it, I need you. Fuck, fucking, fuck me, _please_ \--”

Castiel finally let his self-control crumble. He pulled out and shoved himself back inside, and Dean let out a gratifying sob. With the last vestiges of coherent thought he wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, making sure he wasn’t going to fuck him into a broken neck on the mattress, and then he let himself fall apart.

“To have you like this,” he said through clenched teeth. “To have you open and bound and spread out underneath me.”

“Cas, please, fuck, Cas, I can’t, I’m --” Dean was disintegrating, incoherent and obscene, and he was taking Castiel with him.

“Come, Dean,” he ground out. “Come for me.” And Dean was tumbling, falling, fucking skydiving over the edge immediately, coming in hard, painful, unbelievable spurts into the mattress. Cas shoved into him one last time and he followed with a cry, his arms gripping Dean’s waist.

They lay together, gasping. “Holy fucking shit,” Dean mumbled, his face still pressed into the pillow.

“Um,” Cas agreed, kissing Dean’s spine. His brain cleared slightly and he realized Dean’s position, tied up and bent over, and he blushed, inexplicably.

“Don’t know what got into you, angel, but I think I like it,” Dean said, slurring slightly.

Cas sat up hurriedly and freed Dean’s wrists.

“I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly shy. “Was that, uh. I’m. Did I hurt you?”

Dean flipped himself over, blinked up at him, then pulled Castiel down to his mouth.

“Cas,” he said languidly, “don’t ever change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just kind of, uh, happened. Sorry.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rainy day restlessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

It was raining.

Not the afternoon squalls they'd gotten used to, short and brutal and weirdly beautiful. The sky changed from robin's-egg blue to apocalyptic within moments and the clouds opened up for 20 minutes, sending everyone in a mad dash for cover, and then over as quickly as it came on. The sun shone as brilliant as ever, and with the raindrops still glittering on leaves, everything seemed fresh and sweet and perfect.

No, it was raining in a long, tired drizzle, and had been on and off for the better part of two days. It was almost worse when it tapered off, when the wet heat rolled off of concrete in in thick, sullen waves, sticking to the skin. The mosquitoes whined and it stank of decay.

The smell made the brothers restless. Sam was brooding and Dean was snappy, Cas stayed silent and Gabe got louder. Wet and dark and dirty sex had kept them happy for awhile, because lazy fucking to the slow roll of thunder was _almost_ as good as when the lightning flashed bright and quick on skin. Sam and Dean had even managed to build up decent mental blocks at hearing each other through the walls, but as Gabriel had said, nobody could be fucking _all_ the time, and the atmosphere was getting tense.

Finally Gabriel had had enough of Sam's one-word replies.

"C'mon, little moose," he said, standing up. "Let's get out of here for a little bit. Show me around."

"Gabe, I don't actually _live_ here, you know," Sam grumbled.

"Then let's go explore," Gabriel countered.

"Explore what, exactly? Strip malls and gift shops?"

" _Sa-am_ ," Gabe whined. Sam rolled his eyes, but he let Gabriel bully him into his shoes and out the door.

"Dean?" he said, tapping on the next door. "We're gonna get out of the house for a bit, is it cool if I take the Impala?"

"Mm," Dean's voice came through. "Treat her like gold, Sammy."

"I _know_ , Dean."

"Don't fuck too hard," Gabriel called cheerfully. A middle-aged woman down the hall stopped and stared at him, aghast. Sam and Gabriel both waved at her with bright smiles, and she disappeared, door slamming behind her. They dissolved into laughter.

"OK, I feel better already," Sam admitted.

"You know I'm always right," Gabriel said.

"And that may have been the least right thing I've ever heard anyone say."

\--

They drove aimlessly for an hour or so, down the main beachside thoroughfare, lined with gift shops and diners and garishly-painted motels.

"Ooh," Gabriel exclaimed, pointing. "We could play minigolf!"

"Gabe, it's _raining_ ," Sam said.

"There's a cave. I bet we could occupy ourselves in there," he said thoughtfully.

Sam snorted. "Too bad there are children there," he said. "What the fuck are children doing playing minigolf in a fucking downpour, anyway?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I suppose if you're here long enough, you just stop noticing."

“God for-fucking-bid.”

“Oh, that looks like a nice establishment,” Gabe said, pointing to a gritty building decorated vaguely like a cruise ship.

“Is that seriously advertising ‘clean rooms, cheap rates, free STD testing’?” Sam said.

Gabe shrugged. “Get tested and get laid, all in one place?” he said. “Got to admit, there’s a perverse symbiosis.”

Sam shook his head.

Finally they decided to get off the strip -- they couldn’t even _see_ the fucking ocean 20 yards away due to the density of hotels, and the sleaziness was starting to fade from funny to depressing.

So they turned off the peninsula and crossed the river, and as they went over the high-rise bridge Sam had to concede a certain beauty to it. The sides of the bridge were covered with mosaics of manatees and dolphins and tropical fish, and in the rearview mirror the Atlantic stretched out impossibly, mind-bogglingly huge.

Unfortunately, as soon as they got on the mainland proper, the motels and gift shops were replaced by empty chain restaurants, a K-Mart (“K-Marts still exist?” said Sam. “I’ll be damned.” “Again,” agreed Gabriel) and the stench of fast food.

“Jesus Christ,” said Sam, rolling up the window. Even Gabriel wrinkled his nose.

“I am much more in accord with your brother that these ‘salads’ of which you speak are not fit for human consumption, but uh… wow.”

“Why do people come here on purpose?” Sam said as they passed under a giant teal arch welcoming them.

“I suppose if you live in a place where it’s below freezing eight months of the year, it doesn’t take much to be appealing,” Gabe said.

“Yeah, but, Christ, there’s like, Hawaii or something. Key West. Fucking Texas. Not _here_.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe the hookers are cheaper here.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Priorities, dude,” he said, and Gabriel poked him.

\--

Eventually they were parked on the side of an old empty road in front of crumbling stone ruins spanning a murky canal, out of place between the busy, neon-lined thoroughfares on either side.

"I think I know what this is," Sam said, looking up and down the street.

"And here you said you couldn't show me around."

"No, asshole, I haven't been here, but Dean and I researched it when we were looking for the coven. These arches used to be the entryway to an antebellum plantation. Came up clean, but as the site of the plantation now appears to house," he squinted down the road, "a fucking CVS, it seemed like a possibility."

"Ooh," Gabriel said. "I could take us back there, y'know. The antebellum South was delightful. Well, as long as you were white. And rich. And a man. OK, so maybe not that different."

"Pretty sure I've had my fill of time travel with you, Gabe," Sam said pointedly, and Gabriel shut his mouth with a guilty snap.

"Can we at least make out under the arches?" he asked meekly. 

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "You are insufferable."

"God, you're sexy when you insult me."

They got out and wandered through the ruins, poking at the old stone and reading the graffiti dating back decades. It was haunting -- not, thankfully, in the way Sam was used to, but it felt like a pocket out of time, even with the lights of the main roads visible and the occasional car trundling by. The day had faded into twilight, filtered wet and green through the hanging layers of Spanish moss, and the only constant sound was water rippling under the aggressive whine of locusts.

Eventually they sat down against a disintegrating staircase where the arches sheltered them from the mercurial rain. They kissed lazily. Sam pressed Gabriel against the stone, trailing his fingers over the damp skin under Gabe’s shirt, and Gabriel twisted his fingers in Sam’s hair, but neither pressed any further. The ruins and the gloom shielded them from the rare traffic, but the muggy air wrapping around them was thick and heavy and left them quiet, indolent.

“It’s eerie here,” Sam said finally. “Like the history is tangible somewhere behind the fog.”

“It is eerie,” Gabriel agreed. “And kind of sexy. Fortunately on both counts, you’ve got an archangel who's in love with you.”

Sam stared at him in surprise.

Gabriel swallowed. “Shit,” he said, plainly groping for his easy flamboyance. “Yeah, um, about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess this chapter was a bit half-assed. I started the next one and it's so much fun (read: porny), I kind of rushed this one. Please don't hate me.
> 
> Side note, the ruins are a real place, and are really fucking creepy. Photos mine.
> 
>  
> 
>  


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You hurt me, and I liked it,” Cas continued. “And I love you, but I want to hurt you, too. Is this a human thing?”
> 
> Dean rested his head against Cas’ shoulder.
> 
> “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E

"So," said Dean, "anything else on your list of things to explore, you kinky fuck?" Cas bit his lip, considering. "Especially as our brothers are temporarily out of hearing distance," he added.

"Would... would you hit me?" Cas finally said. Dean raised an eyebrow. "The dichotomy of pleasure and pain has existed throughout all of human history. I've observed it for millenia, but have never had occasion to experience it."

"You want me to spank you?" Dean said.

Cas nodded and blushed. "Like the babysitter," he confirmed with a small smile.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "We can do that."

He wasn't exactly shocked, really. He'd noticed Cas' reaction to that particular video (if by _noticed_ one meant _jerked off to it so hard his dick felt bruised_ ), though based on Cas' previous request he would have guessed he'd be on the receiving end. Not that he was complaining.

"We're gonna have to lay out some ground rules, though," he said. "Like... do you just want me to slap your ass when I'm fucking you? Like you did to me? Or do you want me to lay you out and spank you raw, 'til you're screaming?"

Cas' blush intensified and he stared at his hands, but didn't reply. Dean put a finger under his chin and lifted his face to meet his eyes.

"From your silence, I'm gonna guess the latter," he said. Cas held his gaze for a moment, then looked away with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Dean smiled.

"You pick the strangest times to get shy, little angel," he whispered. "Sure weren't shy when you asked to tie _me_ up. Bit different when you're on the other side, huh?" Cas nodded. Dean pinched his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger and tugged lightly. "And in front of my little brother, too," he added. "Pretty rude, really, when you know how hard Sam's trying to not freak out about us."

"I'm sorry," Cas managed. "I didn't mean --" Dean pulled harder on his lip and he shut up.

"And you get so _bossy_ ," he continued. "Like I'm in your garrison, under your command. Is that what you think?"

"N-no, Dean, you know I --" Dean cut him off with a kiss, wet and biting.

"What I _know_ ," he said, "is that you have some very bad habits. And some lessons to learn about humans." He slid his hand down Cas' back, then slapped his ass once, sharply. He knew it wouldn't really hurt, not through the jeans Cas was still wearing, but he heard the angel's breathing hitch, and he smiled.

"You like that?" he murmured. Cas bit back a moan, and was rewarded by two more slaps in quick succession.

Dean felt Cas hardening against his hip, and he reached down to press the heel of his hand against him through his jeans.

"Yeah, you do," he said, squeezing gently. "Hmm... You're not supposed to _like_ it, Cas. Maybe I should stop. Should I stop?"

"No, please," Cas whispered.

Dean lowered his mouth to Cas' neck and bit down, then sucked hard at the same spot, and he could feel Cas' cock jerking against his own.

"Tell you what," he said into Castiel's ear. "I'm going to strip you naked, and throw you down on the bed. Then I am going to spank your ass until it is red and sore and hot, and so very tender. Until you're writhing on the bed, begging me to stop. And then, if you're very, very good, if you take it like a good little angel, I'm going to bend you over and fuck you, my hips slamming into your poor abused skin. Do you want that?"

Cas' breath was high and shallow, and he was trembling. Dean pulled back slightly.

"Hey," he said, brushing his thumb over Cas' lips. "You OK?" he asked, and Cas nodded. "You want a safeword?"

Cas cocked his head in confusion, and something in Dean melted, at how even like this, rock-hard and shaking with desire, there was so much innocence in the gesture.

"Um," he said. "It's a word we could assign so that if you say it, I'll stop immediately, I'll know it's too much. Because, Cas, I gotta tell you, I intend to break you apart, and don't expect me to go easy on you."

Cas thought about this for a few moments, then shook his head. "No," he said. "You'd know. I trust you."

Dean smiled at this, then kissed him soft and tender. He undressed Cas slowly, worshipfully. His hands played over his back as he slipped the shirt off, and as he knelt to tug off his jeans, he rubbed his cheek over Cas’ cock.

Finally he stood up. “Love you,” he said against his lips, running soothing hands over his skin.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and Dean smiled.

Without warning he flipped Cas around and shoved him onto the bed. Cas jerked in surprise, and tried to crawl up on his knees, but Dean was on him, straddling the back of his thighs.

“Are -- are you going to get undressed?” Cas asked shakily.

“Would it make you more comfortable?”

“I’d feel less -- less vulnerable,” Cas admitted.

“Then no,” Dean said simply.

He ran his fingertips over Castiel’s skin, tracing lines between the freckles scattered across his back.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he asked, sincerely. Cas only groaned, and Dean smacked him once, hard. The first hint of pink began to appear on his perfect pale skin. “I asked you a question,” Dean growled.

“No,” he gasped. “N-no. Only --”

“Only what, Cas?”

“Only when you touch me,” Cas whispered, and Dean had to reach down and palm himself through his jeans.

“Your skin’s so beautiful,” he murmured. “So fine, so smooth. Fuck, I can’t wait to see what it looks like all marked up.” He leaned down and bit Cas’ ass, hard enough to leave imprints of his teeth, then rubbed his thumb over the marks. Cas jerked underneath him.

Dean smacked him again, on the other side. “Gonna have to hold still,” he said. “I could tie you up, I suppose -- God, you’d look amazing like that, spread-eagled and tied down to the bed. Another time, though.” He spanked Cas three times in the same spot, and Cas moaned.

“I love the sounds you make,” Dean whispered. “Good thing Sam and Gabe went out, because I want to drag sounds out of you that you never knew were in you. You know I’d still do it if they were there, though, right on the other side of the wall, and could hear everything. Hear you, Castiel, angel of the Lord, getting spanked like a naughty little boy,” and he dropped two more sharp blows, like punctuation, “and fucking _loving_ it. Aren’t you, little angel?” He slipped a hand under Cas’ hips and found his cock pulsingly hard and fucking dripping. He swiped over the head, gathering liquid on his fingers, then dragged his wet fingers down Cas’ spine. 

“Yeah, you are,” he said. “God, you’re close already, aren’t you? You know I’m not stopping if you come too soon.” He slid his fingers lower, spreading him open slightly and teasing him. Cas let out a sob and tried to push back. 

Dean laughed and pulled away. “Not even close,” he said. “How did you phrase it? -- ‘You’ll take what _I give you_ , or I won’t give you anything at all’?”

He dropped a gentle kiss at the base of Cas’ spine and ran his hands over his ass. The skin was warm but not hot, and while his breathing was ragged, he didn’t flinch at the touch.

“Good boy,” he murmured, and smacked at the juncture of Cas’ ass with his legs several times, alternating sides. Cas choked and whined.

“Yeah,” Dean said, kneading the tender skin gently, “gonna be sore tomorrow. Every time you sit down, I’ll see you flinch, and you’ll know I’m picturing you like this. ’Course you could heal it, but you won’t, will you?”

He waited, but no sound came from Cas except shallow breathing and small sobs from the back of his throat. He sighed loudly and leaned down.

“Shouldn’t have to teach an angel of the Lord to answer simple questions,” he whispered. “Even we _humans_ know that.” He began to spank Cas in earnest, not too hard but not too fucking soft either. He leaned in to listen to the sounds Cas was making, so he’d know when it was time to give a reprieve, but fuck, it was hard to focus on anything but Castiel’s ass and his own dick.

“Dean,” Cas finally cried, “Dean, please, I -- I can’t take it, I --”

“Yes you can,” Dean said matter-of-factly, delivering one more stinging slap, but then he slid his hands over all of Cas’ body he could reach, pressing soothing touches into his back, but just slipping his fingers over the tormented skin beneath him, following with his lips and tongue, until Cas’ breathing settled down.

“Hey,” Dean said, stroking his ribs, “you OK? You want to stop?”

Cas drew in a great shuddering breath. “No,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

This time it was Dean who let out a groan. “The things you do to me,” he ground out. “Feel like I’m gonna come in my jeans.” He leaned down and spread Cas open again, pressing his tongue up against him, while squeezing his tender flesh in his hands. Cas bucked and writhed, and Dean smiled.

“ _Dichotomy of pleasure and pain_ , you said?” he murmured, raking a fingernail down. “Gonna give you ten more. Hard. Gonna keep my tongue inside you, though.”

Cas keened underneath him, and there were real tears dripping down his face. Dean slapped his ass as hard as he could, but every time Cas jerked and sobbed, he fucked himself further onto Dean’s tongue, and every time he did that, Dean spanked him again. 

After ten blows, Dean didn’t know whether he was suffocating because of his tongue buried deep in the angel’s ass or the way Cas was writhing and begging and crying. He crawled up Cas’ body, pressing kisses on every available inch.

“So good,” he said, breathing hard against Cas’ neck. “You’re amazing. Fuck.”

He slid his hands down Cas’ back, slipping over his ass. “Gonna fuck you,” he whispered.

Cas dissolved into tears, and Dean panicked. “Cas. Cas, are you OK? I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I --”

Cas reached his arm back, scrabbling for Dean. “If you stop,” he said, with very forced control, “I will kill you.”

“Oh,” Dean breathed. He finally yanked his clothes off, fumbling for the lube, then spread it over his fingers. “Cas,” he said. “Cas, God, so good.”

“Please,” Cas croaked. “Please.”

“Gotta teach you patience one of these days,” Dean murmured, tracing cool, slick fingertips over hot skin. He bent and bit gently at the mark he’d already left with his teeth, then slid two fingers easily inside. “God, you’re aching for me, aren’t you?”

Cas didn’t reply, and Dean smacked him at the same time he crooked his fingers. “ _Manners_ , Castiel,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” Cas choked.

“Good boy,” Dean said, pulling his fingers out. “Good little angel.” He stroked himself, slicking himself, then pushed inside Castiel. “How does that feel?” he asked, biting back a groan.

“H-hurts,” Cas answered at once, trembling. “But feels -- so good. I think -- I think I understand. Contrast. Ju-juxtaposition.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, pressing a long kiss to Cas’ spine. “Pleasure,” thrusting his hips to hit the way he knew by now, “and pain.” He dragged his fingernails over the tender skin, then slapped both hands up once. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” Cas cried out. “Please fuck me.”

“Even though it hurts?”

“Please,” Cas whispered, hands gripping the sheets.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Dean growled, finding a rhythm, and he could feel the heat of Cas’ skin against his hips. “So gorgeous.”

“Dean, I’m --” 

Dean reached down, wrapped his hand Cas’ cock. “You did so good, little angel,” he said. “Come.” Cas spilled over his hand instantly. Dean gripped him around his waist, and the broken, fucked-out noises were enough to push him over the edge, coming with a sob.

He pulled out and lay back, panting.

“You,” he said. “Jesus. Out of everything, you’re going to be the death of me. I’m going to die by an angel of the Lord.”

Cas stretched and groaned. “The irony,” he said, “is not lost on me,” and Dean choked out an exhausted laugh. He wrapped his arms around the angel, pressing his mouth into his hair.

“That was fucking amazing,” Dean said. “Are you OK?”

Cas hummed. “Hurts,” he said, thoughtfully. “It hurts. I like it.”

“Good,” Dean said, kissing his skin.

“You hurt me, and I liked it,” Cas continued. “And I love you, but I want to hurt you, too. Is this a human thing?” 

Dean rested his head against Cas’ shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I really like the switching of power plays between Dean and Cas. And Cas being somehow innocently kinky. Thoughts, please?


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E

Sam had not been wrong to be afraid of what would result from Dean and Gabriel ganging up together.

He and Cas were sitting rigid and still while two strippers ground listlessly in their laps. They weren’t unattractive, but Sam could not recall ever feeling less aroused. Dean and Gabriel were howling with laughter at the twin expressions of discomfort on their faces, and Sam shot daggers at them.

“This isn’t necessary,” Cas growled.

The girl in his lap gave him a bored smile. “S’just a job, sweetie,” she said. “Your boyfriends ask us to jump on you, we just say how high.”

“Gonna kill you, Gabe,” Sam announced.

“Ah, you’re so cute when you’re feisty, Sammy-boy.”

Finally the girls wandered off in search of more lucrative targets. Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wincing, and looked up to see Dean giving him a knowing smirk. Cas glared at him.

“Are you goading me, Dean?” he growled.

“What, turnin’ you into a goat? Think that’s more Gabe’s area of expertise,” Dean replied with a wink.

“I will not hesitate to give it back to you, Dean, and you know what I can do,” Cas said evenly. Dean swallowed.

Gabriel looked back and forth between them, at Cas’ careful, stoic posture and the expression on Dean’s face, a mix of lust, wariness and challenge, and it clicked. He burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God,” he finally said. “So I take it you two took full advantage of our absence yesterday?” He shook his head. “Kinky bastards. Dean I’d have guessed, but Cassie -- I’m impressed, little bro.”

“He was asking for it,” Dean offered.

Cas’ glower deepened. “As are you,” he said flatly. Dean bit his lip but the challenge didn’t leave his eyes.

“Um,” Sam said, glancing around in apprehensive confusion.

“Don’t think about it, little moose,” Gabriel advised.

Sam paused. “Okay,” he finally said, taking a long drink.

Gabriel eyed him. “I like you obedient,” he purred. “Our brothers must have --”

“This is me _not thinking about it_ , Gabe.”

“Too late. I’m thinking about it.”

Cas and Dean kept up their staring contest for another few moments until Cas stood up and held out his hand.

“We’re leaving, Dean,” he said. Dean gave a theatrical, long-suffering sigh. He shrugged at Sam and Gabriel -- _well, what can you do?_ \-- and grabbed Cas’ hand, following him out the door.

Gabriel watched them go. “Bet they’re gonna have a good night,” he said approvingly.

“I feel dirty,” Sam muttered.

“You always know what to say.”

Sam groaned. “Can we get out of here, you sadistic fuck?”

“Not helping your case here, Sammy.”

Sam turned to glare at Gabriel, but instead of the playful mischief he expected to find, Gabriel was staring at him with dark, honest want.

“Gabe?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Gabriel seemed to realize the look on his face and shook himself.

“I can’t _help_ it,” he whined. “You’re too attractive for your own fucking good.” He paused. “Fortunately, that works out well for _my_ fucking good. But yes. Let’s get out of here.” 

He reached out and grabbed Sam’s wrist, and they were back in the motel room. Sam sat down with a thump.

“Gabe, you can’t just do that in public, dude!”

Gabriel shrugged, unconcerned. “Priorities, Sammy-boy. Don’t like seeing other people in your lap.”

“You _hired_ her, dickhead.”

“Well, it was funny.”

Sam snorted. “You make my head ache.”

“Hmm,” Gabriel said, leaning in, “I’d rather make your --”

Sam yanked him down into his lap and kissed him. “Actually,” he murmured against Gabriel’s mouth, “I do believe it’s my turn.”

“Oh, God. I can work with that.” He raised his hand to blink off their clothes, but Sam stopped him.

“Now who’s impatient?” he said with a smirk.

“Sam Winchester, I swear to God --”

Sam shut him up again with his mouth, and Gabriel’s protest melted into a groan. “I just want to undress you myself,” he whispered. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet. Without risking a foot to the jaw, anyway.”

“Okay,” Gabe gasped. “Okay. Totally on board with that. Yup.”

Sam snorted. “Jackass,” he said affectionately, sliding his hands up Gabriel’s back.

“ _Your_ jackass,” Gabe clarified. “As long as you don’t stop touching me.”

“Think we’re good on that front,” Sam said, and tugged Gabriel’s shirt over his head before shrugging off his own. Sam pushed Gabriel down to the bed and crawled on top of him, kissing him softly before moving down to nibble and lick at his neck and shoulder and collarbones. Gabe had his hand threaded loosely in Sam’s hair, and when he bit down on a nipple he hissed and twisted his fingers tightly.

“Be careful or you’re going to fucking give me a hair kink, little moose,” he groaned.

“Dude, if you ever come in my hair we’re going to have issues.”

“Jesus, we _really_ need to work on your dirty talk.”

Sam grinned up at him, then returned his attention to the skin of Gabriel’s chest and stomach. “Would it be better,” he said, licking stripes across Gabe’s ribs, “if I said I wanted you so far down my throat,” and bit gently at hipbones, “that you ‘come in my esophagus,’ as you put it?”

“Um,” the angel replied, clearly aiming for nonchalance and missing it by miles, “ma-marginally.”

Sam fumbled with Gabriel’s belt, then tugged off his jeans, stroking him through the fabric of his boxers. He paused and looked up.

“I, um,” he said, blushing slightly. “I’ve never. So. If I do anything, you know, wrong --”

“If you’re asking me to be your blowjob coach the answer is most definitely yes,” Gabriel said, breathless. “But -- seriously, if you don’t --”

“Gabe, if you tell me one more time I don’t _have_ to do something, I’m putting your fucking jeans right back on.”

Gabriel shut his mouth. “Carry on, then,” he said meekly.

Sam pulled Gabriel’s boxers off slowly, then took an experimental lick, staring at Gabriel’s face.

“Oh, God, Sammy,” he said, biting his lip. His fingers were still in Sam’s hair, but he was careful to keep them loose, undemanding. Encouraged, Sam wrapped his mouth around the head of Gabe’s cock and began trying to sink down.

It was sloppy, and it was amateur, and there was definitely a little too much teeth, and it was without question the hottest thing Gabriel had ever seen in his long and adventurous existence.

“Sam,” he growled, trying not to thrust into his mouth. “Sam, I’m -- if you don’t -- Sammy, please, I’m fucking going to --”

Sam sucked him down hard and he came with a cry, hips jerking off the bed and hands scrabbling in the sheets. Sam pulled off him slowly, swirling his tongue around, then sat up and licked his lips.

“That was more fun that I expected,” he said thoughtfully.

Gabriel groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “That was _embarrassing_! I came like a fucking 13 year old sneaking a look at his dad’s Playboys!”

An expression of delight came over Sam’s face. “Holy shit, _I embarrassed you_! I need to give you blowjobs more often.” Gabriel grunted in obvious agreement, but didn’t take his arm away. Sam poked him in the ribs. “I can still fuck you later, right? I don’t know --”

Gabriel sat up. “ _Later_?” he growled. “I believe the implication was that you’d be fucking me into next week sooner rather than _later_.”

Sam blinked. “Yeah, but, we -- I mean, you just --”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Hello?” he said, gesturing at his face. “Archangel? You think I need Viagra to get it up?”

Sam stared at him. “Oh, God. You’re going to kill me.”

“Well, not on purpose, anymore.”

Sam shifted briefly to get the rest of his clothes off. He straddled Gabriel’s hips, reaching one hand forward to trace his lips and the other back between his legs, pressing down and into and --

He blinked again, then raised an eyebrow.

Gabe grinned at him. “Perks of dating an archangel, little moose,” he said.

Sam snorted, but he was far too turned on to argue. “Fine,” he said, stretching down the angel’s body. “But next time I want to do it myself. No grace-cheating.”

“Fine,” Gabriel echoed, gasping. “Now will you -- fucking -- fuck me?”

Sam pressed a biting kiss to Gabriel’s mouth, then shifted his hips, pushing into him. “Uh, you’ll tell me, if --”

“If you keep asking me if you’re doing something wrong,” Gabriel ground out, “I’m throwing your earlier threat back at you.” 

Sam distantly replayed his words, then shut his mouth. He dropped onto his elbows, looming over the angel. “Feel like I’m going to break you,” he mumbled. Gabriel opened his mouth and Sam cut him off. “Yes, I know, fucking archangel, I _know_ ,” he growled. “Can’t help it.”

Gabriel rolled his hips slowly, eyes closed. “Can I get on top?” he said.

“Oh, God, yes.”

Gabriel shifted and manhandled Sam until he was on Sam’s groin, with Sam’s cock pressed against his ass.

“Gonna,” he exhaled, and Sam gripped his hips.

“Please.”

Gabriel sank down on him, slowly but to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” Sam whispered, “oh fuck I can’t --”

“Just desserts,” Gabriel said, smiling crookedly, but he stilled himself.

Sam rocked up into Gabriel, but it wasn’t long until the pressure was too much.

“Gabe, Gabe, not gonna last -- but I wanna --” he wrapped a hand around Gabriel’s cock, “-- I wanna feel you come when I’m inside of you and -- and I want to come inside of you…”

Gabriel dropped down, joining one hand with Sam’s and wrapping the other in his hair, and he came again, in messy spurts across Sam’s stomach, and Sam finally followed, wrapping his arms around the angel.

“Oh, fuck,” Sam finally breathed, pulling them both against the pillows.

“Mmrp,” Gabriel agreed without moving his head.

A few minutes went by, then Sam turned to Gabriel.

“So you’re in love with me.”

Gabriel tensed, and turned to jerk away, but Sam kept his arms tight around him.

“Shit,” Sam said, pressing his mouth to Gabriel’s shoulder. “I am in so much fucking trouble.”

"Über-boned," agreed Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer than I like to update because Sabriel is hard, I feel like it write it very stunted and uninteresting. Suggestions?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean pushes. Cas pushes back.
> 
> (AKA how 5x18 should have gone, in my head.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E

Cas pulled Dean out of the strip club, but instead of heading to the Impala, he dragged Dean into an alley and slammed him against the wall, hard enough for Dean’s head to bounce against the brick.

“Oof,” Dean said. “Cas, what --?”

Castiel wrapped one hand around his mouth and shoved against Dean’s chest with the other.

“Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable, Dean?” Cas whispered. Dean’s eyes were wide and dilated, but still sparking challenge. Cas knocked his legs apart and ground his knee between them, hard enough to lift Dean’s heels slightly off the pavement so his weight was all on his crotch. "Do you like having an angel to toy with? Is that how you think of me?" His voice was low and dangerous, and God, Dean thought, he was even more beautiful like this, with dark eyes and clenched jaw.

He wrenched Cas' hand off his mouth. "Yes," he finally spat out, "and no." Cas waited, his expression unchanging. "Never a toy," he said, his voice slightly ragged. "But if making you uncomfortable makes you -- makes you like this, then _fuck_ , yes, I enjoy it."

Cas actually snarled in his ear and Dean groaned, rubbing himself shamelessly against Cas' knee. Cas dragged his wrists over his head and held them there with one hand, and the other went to work on Dean's belt.

"We can't," Dean gasped, his hips jerking traitorously, "not here, we -- take us, take us to --"

"When will you learn," Cas whispered, "that your actions have consequences?" He let go of his wrists and dropped to his knees, yanking Dean's jeans to his thighs. Dean moaned, high in the back of his throat, and Cas dug his fingers into his hipbones. "Better learn to be quiet, Dean, because I am going to fuck you against this wall, and I’m going to try to make you scream."

Cas leaned in and swallowed Dean down all at once, and at the same time slid his hand around to start roughly fingering him open.

"Cas, man, I gotta say," Dean said through gritted teeth, "not really making a good case for _not_ making you uncomfortable here." Cas ignored him, working his fingers and mouth, until he felt Dean begin to tense.

"Cas, I --" he gasped, and Castiel pulled off and out instantly.

"Don't you fucking dare," he growled, gripping the base of Dean's cock tightly as he stood up. He kissed Dean, hard and dirty, then flipped him around and shoved him against the wall. "You know," he said, in a low, conversational tone, "if somebody saw us, I could just disappear, and leave you here like this... all alone, pants around your knees, bent over and stretched out... would that make you _uncomfortable_?"

"You wouldn't," Dean said, pillowing his forehead on his arms. "You'd probably fucking let them watch."

Cas smiled slightly. "Maybe," he said, and shoved himself into Dean in one smooth motion. Dean bit back a groan, sinking his teeth into his forearm. "It would be a shame to deny anyone seeing you like this. You wouldn’t even care, would you, as long as I kept fucking you?” He pulled out slowly then slammed back in, as if in emphasis.

“No,” he choked out. “No, no, just don’t stop.”

“Even Sam and Gabriel could walk by,” Cas said, fucking upwards slowly, “and you wouldn’t even notice. They’d recognize your voice, you know. Sam would try to get away, but you know Gabriel. He likes you now, but he’d still never resist the chance to see you like this, the great Dean Winchester, bent over in an alley and begging for cock.”

“ _Yours_ ,” Dean growled. “Only yours.”

“So beautiful when you’re unraveling,” Cas whispered, kissing Dean’s spine. “Like nothing matters in the world except my cock. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Dean hissed. Then -- “No. You -- and your fingers, and your mouth, but -- you. Always matter.”

Cas groaned, a little of the self-control melting off his face. He leaned in and bit at the skin of Dean’s back until he heard him cry out, muffled against his arms.

“Please, Cas,” he said, his breath catching in his throat. “Please, harder.” He reached one hand down to stroke himself but Cas grabbed it and pinned it against the concrete. With his other hand, Cas twisted his fingers in Dean’s hair and pulled his head back.

“Not your show this time, Dean,” Cas said into his ear, and Dean’s breath went even higher and faster. “You wanted to push me, didn’t you?”

“Not -- not sorry,” he gasped, and Cas knew he wasn’t going to be able to draw it out much more.

“I’m an angel of the Lord, Dean,” he whispered, and bit down hard at the base of Dean’s neck. “You should show me some respect.” He shoved his hips into Dean hard one last time and they both went tumbling over the edge, Cas keeping a hand clamped over Dean’s mouth to muffle his cries.

“Jesus,” he finally gasped, slumping against the bricks and trying not to think about the various substances he was likely pressed against.

“Mm,” Cas agreed, resting his forehead against Dean’s back. “I trust I made my point.”

“Not sure,” Dean said with an exhausted grin. “Think I might need more demonstrations.”

Cas paused, then pressed a long, soft kiss to Dean’s spine. “See you at the motel, Dean,” he whispered, and with a rustling of the air he was gone.

“Son of a fucking --” he swore, struggling to get his jeans back on. He glanced down at himself. Dirt was ground into his forearms -- and to his forehead as well, he guessed -- and spatters of white stood out against the green of his t-shirt. Bright red indentations from his teeth shone on his skin. He looked -- well, he thought with a snicker, he looked like he had just been fucked against the wall of an alley outside of a strip club.

He tried to make himself remotely presentable, then shuffled out of the dark and across the parking lot. Nobody gave him a second glance, and he supposed that, realistically, a nice round of good old-fashioned gay sex was probably not among the more noteworthy things to have happened in that alley.

He unlocked the Impala and slid inside, grimacing. Cas hadn’t actually hurt him but he was more than a little tender, and while the feeling of Cas’ come all over his ass -- and _in_ his ass -- was admittedly, in a way, kind of fucking hot, it was in a lot more ways just really fucking gross, and he was relieved the motel was only a few minutes away.

When he got inside Cas was sitting cross-legged on the bed reading a book, completely unruffled, of course, without a hair out of place. At least, Dean thought with exasperated affection, not any more out of place than usual.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Cas,” he announced, crossing the room to flop on the bed next to him. The angel was only blinking at him innocently, but the corners of his mouth were twitching in that way that Dean found equal parts irresistibly sexy and unbelievably irritating. “You’d think angels would be _nice_ boyfriends,” he muttered. “Not dicks.”

“Technically, I’m not a ‘boy’,” Cas said, complete with the fucking air quotes. “I’m a multidimensional wavelength --”

“-- of celestial intent, yes,” Dean finished, rolling his eyes. “But I prefer the term ‘dick’.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said solemnly. “I hope I didn’t make you… uncomfortable.”

Dean just groaned and threw a pillow at his head.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daydreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

"We could check out Tahiti," Sam suggested.

They were sprawled out in the motel courtyard, a depressing layout of lawn chairs on sidewalk with neither sand nor pool in sight.

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "Kind of touristy. Anyway, if you've seen one island paradise, you've seen them all," he said, twisting his fingers through Sam's hair.

"I _haven't_ seen one, asshole," Sam replied, but leaned his head back onto Gabriel's shoulder.

"Not exactly a lot of Winchester family vacations," Dean added. "All our family bonding was done over killin' shit and cleanin' up."

"We'll all go to Tahiti sometime, then," Gabriel declared. Sam smiled and nuzzled his neck.

Dean made a gagging sound. "Jesus, Gabriel, if you give me a complex about my baby brother's hair, archangel or no, so help me..." Sam rolled his eyes, and Gabriel tugged harder on the strands hanging down his neck. "Anyway," Dean continued, throwing a leer at Castiel, "I'm afraid that tropical sun would turn the angel over here into a lobster, and I'm the only one who gets to mark up that pretty white skin."

Cas glared at him, and Sam groaned. "Dude, I do _not_ want to know what he does to you when you bait him over the line."

Dean thought back to the strip club alley and grinned. "No, you don't. Gabe probably would, though."

Gabriel raised an interested eyebrow but Cas' glower deepened, and Dean shut up, meekly offering him a beer.

Gabe raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just happy for you, little bro. I thought you'd be a virgin prude forever."

Dean snorted. He glanced over, thinking of Castiel in his various moods -- open and wanting, begging to be spanked and fucked, or tying Dean up and manipulating him like a toy, or throwing him face-first against an alley wall, or -- 

Dean cut himself off before his thoughts drifted further into the realm of the inappropriate, but he couldn't bite back a snicker. There were many ways in his head to describe the angel, but _virgin prude_ was definitely not on that list. At least, not anymore.

"Earth to Dean," Gabriel called, and Dean started, realizing he'd been blatantly staring at Castiel for at least a minute or two, and Cas' glower had melted into a smirk. He blushed.

"What?" he said defensively. "I'm allowed to check out my hot angel boyfriend."

"I thought the eye-fucking would stop when you started _actually_ fucking," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Well," Dean said, scooting closer to Cas, "technically, we're not _actually_ fucking, like, right now. Not that I'm not open to amending that." He leaned in and nibbled lightly at Cas' neck. Cas pushed him off half-heartedly, but not before Dean noted with satisfaction the slight hitch in his breathing.

"That was not a suggestion," Sam said with an exasperated laugh. " _Anyway_. Cas, what about you? What's your pick for our eventual hey-we-stopped-the-fucking-apocalypse celebratory vacation?"

"Haven't you _been_ , like, everywhere?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. "I've been to countless individual locations, but only of necessity. Unlike Gabriel, I have not roamed the world in search of… enjoyment."

"Hey!" Gabriel objected, but Cas waved his hand.

"I meant no offense to you, brother," he said. "In truth, I believe what I'm feeling is… envy, and possibly regret."

Gabriel blinked at him in surprise, then his eyes softened. "Don't worry, little bro. Once we've got the world rid of monsters we'll all go on a big world tour. With very separate rooms."

Cas smiled, but Sam caught the implication. "We?" he said in a neutral voice.

Gabriel bit his lip and flushed slightly. "I'm not a hunter, Sam. And I'm not a warrior of God, either; I can't help like Cassie can. But I am more powerful than almost anything in creation, and I'd like to think that counts for something.

Sam and Dean looked at him, considering, but Castiel rolled his eyes. "Please do not feed the Winchester ego complex, Gabriel," he said. "You are welcome with us, and with thanks."

Gabriel and Sam both looked at him with surprised gratitude, and even Dean gave a perfunctory but sincere grunt of agreement.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said amiably, "can't deny it's nice having an archangel on our dicks." He paused. "Oh, God. No, just -- just erase that," he said, shuddering. "Back to you, Cas. Dream vacation?"

"I think I'd like to see Paris in the 1920s," he said thoughtfully. "The literary expatriates were quite fascinating."

"Veto," Sam and Dean said together. Cas stared at them in surprise, slightly hurt.

"Sorry, Cas," Sam said. "We just -- can we stick to the present day? Kind of a long story." He glared at Gabriel. Castiel looked confused.

"I, um," Gabriel began, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I might have trapped them. In a time loop. Tuesdays. Where --"

Castiel cut him off. "It appears that Sam and Dean have forgiven you," he said. "I need not know."

Gabriel smiled at him gratefully. "So any non-chronokinetic ideas, Cassie?"

Cas hummed. "I've wanted to visit Reykjavik," he said.

Dean blinked. "What's there? Some new counterculture shit?"

"No," Cas said seriously. "I just like the name."

They all stared at him, then burst out laughing. Cas frowned.

"It's very interesting," he said. " _Bay of smokes_ , in the Old Norse, in a country called Iceland. And phonologically --"

Dean kissed him, loud and smacking. "Fuck, I love you," he murmured, and saw Sam raise his eyebrows. "Don't look so surprised, bitch."

"Surprised it took you this long. Jerk."

Dean snorted and straightened up. "So Sam wants Tahiti and Cas wants Iceland. Glad we're on the same page here. Gabe?"

"As Cassie implied, I _have_ been everywhere," he said. "So I'm all for whatever."

"That wasn't the question, though," Sam said. "Even if you've been there before. What's your pick? That's not, like, Mesopotamia or fucking Atlantis."

Gabriel tilted his head, considering, and Dean and Sam both found themselves slightly unsettled at the sudden, unexpected resemblance between Gabe and Cas.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he said at last.

"Promise," Sam replied at once, and Dean echoed reluctantly after a glare from Sam.

"Yorkshire," Gabe said.

" _Yorkshire_?" Sam said. "The big empty shit in England?"

"Yes," Gabriel said softly. "I liked the moors. The emptiness, and the colors. I liked the way they smelled. And I felt… anonymous. People always look for you in cities. People and things."

"I think that's why I like Kansas, in a way," Dean spoke up, and Sam turned to him in surprise. "You know, mile after mile, nothing but fields of grain."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. "What about you, Dean?" Cas finally asked. "Where would you be?"

Dean took a long, thoughtful drink.

"I'd like to go to Tahiti," he said. "Never got a chance to shove sand in my little brother's face. And fuck, Cas, I'd explore the shit out of some bay of smokes with you. I'd even explore the Yorkshire dells." 

He toyed with his beer. "Ask me tomorrow and I'd probably wanna be fuckin' Cas against the Great Wall or somethin'," he said, ignoring Sam's groan. "But right now I like this here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No porn this time, sorry! I felt like it was getting repetitious. And I like the four of them hanging out. :)
> 
> As always thoughts/feedback wildly welcome, you lovely sons of bitches.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas pushes Dean, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I realized one of Dean's Never-Evers in Chapter-Whatever was totally not-canon. And I'm not even particularly concerned with keeping this canon, but it irritated me.
> 
> So of course instead of just taking like ten minutes and fixing the chapter I wrote this instead. Which is still not canon but I am no longer irritated.
> 
> Rating: E

"No," Dean said. "Fuck, no, Cas. Come on."

Cas blinked up at him. "You said you'd show me.

"Yeah, but -- Jesus, no. I didn't mean I'd _show_ you show you."

Cas watched him for a long moment, frowning slightly.

"I don't understand," he admitted, finally. "Women often wear boxer shorts, do they not? Which are considered men's? I don't understand the difference."

Dean realized the angel was not, for once, intentionally fucking with him. He sighed.

"Look, Cas, if you wanna try out a panty kink _you_ can put 'em on."

"All right," Cas replied, completely unfazed. "But I want to see you, too."

Dean groaned. He hooked a finger under the cheap white lace and dangled it. "Where did you even get these?"

"At a Wal-Mart," Cas said. "In Peoria."

"In _Peo-_ \-- you know what, I don't wanna know," Dean said, shaking his head. "Wal-Mart, though? Really? Couldn't even go all, y'know, Frederick's of Hollywood?"

Cas just looked at him quizzically, and Dean sighed again. He knew he was teetering on the brink of some line he wasn't sure he wanted to cross, but he looked at Castiel, the sincere confusion in his face, and he sat down on the bed next to him.

"Look, Cas," he said. "In the first place, I know you don't have all the stigmas built up in your brain. But I do. Even if they don't make sense, they're there. Especially with my dad's shit parenting, I'm amazed I'm not a totally fuckin' repressed closet case."

Cas blinked at him, surprised. "You couldn't ever be," he said, leaning in kiss Dean softly. "What's the other places?"

"What?"

"You said in the 'first place'. Implying other places."

Dean laughed. "You're impossible." Cas scowled, and Dean raised his hands. "Okay, okay! In the second place, um…" He bit his lip. "Look. Think about texture." He dragged the scratchy fabric down Castiel's cheek against his stubble, and Cas flinched. "Yeah," Dean said. "Now imagine that on your junk."

Cas turned it over in his head. "I think I understand," he finally said. "That does seem unpleasant. But… what would feel good?"

Dean cocked his head, considering, then reached out to grab the tie Cas was still wearing. He slid the silk down Castiel's jaw, rubbing it gently along his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, and Dean swallowed.

"See?" he said, dropping the tie back to Cas' chest. "Wouldn't that feel nicer wrapped around your cock?" He bit his lip and tried to stop himself from imagining the sensation.

Cas stared at him, considering. There was a slight rustle and the air flickered for a second, and then Cas was pushing a plastic bag at him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Really, Cas?" he said with a small laugh, but Cas just waited, his expression unreadable. He sighed and opened the bag, pulling out something pink and satiny.

They weren't that bad, really, he had to admit, though he cringed at Cas' choice of color. Fairly basic, no little bows or ribbons, only a little bit of lace at the hips. Kind of like a Speedo, Dean thought, rubbing the fabric idly between his fingers. A really... silky Speedo. And, yeah, he was definitely picturing how that would feel instead of the soft flannel boxers.

“Why do you even want to see me in these?” he asked, playing for time, trying to ignore the undeniable tightness in his jeans.

“You know that I find you to be a beautiful man,” Cas said. “And I find the aesthetics of that choice of underwear appealing. Is that really so strange?”

Dean fidgeted. He knew his argument that they just _weren’t fucking for men_ would be dismissed, and if he was being honest with himself, it sounded a little ridiculous even to his own ears.

“Fine,” he muttered, looking away and flushing hotly. “But you fucking owe me.” He reached up to unbutton his shirt, but Cas stopped him with a hand on his knee.

“Dean,” he said, and Dean met his eyes reluctantly. “If it truly makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to. I don’t want to pressure you.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Thought you liked making me uncomfortable,” he mumbled, and Cas smiled slightly.

“Yes. In certain circumstances, very much. But not this. I just think you would look... very arousing.”

Dean groaned in defeat. “It’s ridiculous how easily you get past my defenses,” he informed the angel. “I don’t think you even know you do it.”

“Sometimes I do,” Cas whispered in that voice that made Dean’s dick throb. He reached up to his shirt but Cas stopped him again. “Let me,” he said, and Dean dropped his hands away.

Cas unbuttoned his shirt slowly, following each bit of exposed skin with his mouth. By the time Cas pushed the shirt off his shoulders, Dean was relatively sure that if Cas asked him to wear a fucking prom dress he'd just be asking for a list of boutiques.

Cas went to work on his jeans just as methodically, unpopping the button and pulling down the zipper tooth by tooth. He gave Dean's aching cock a nuzzle through his boxers but didn't linger there, instead pausing to suck hard at each hipbone, and Dean jerked.

"Cas," he moaned, but Cas only hummed in response, continuing to work the jeans off and worship Dean's skin. He finally pulled them off and dropped them to the floor, crawling back up to toy at the waistband of Dean's boxers.

" _Cas_ ," he repeated, voice rough. "If you don't hurry it up, you're not gonna be able to enjoy me in those pretty pink panties for long, buddy."

Cas just smiled. "No," he said thoughtfully, "I think I'll enjoy it just as much after you've come in them."

"Oh, God, Cas, please," Dean choked, and Cas took pity on him, sliding off his boxers and tossing them aside.

He paused, lingering on the picture of Dean laid out on the bed, bare and wanting, with that intense, unwavering gaze that made Dean feel like he was finding new and undiscovered levels of naked.

"I'd ask if you like what you see," Dean said, trying for levity but betrayed by his voice cracking traitorously, "but I think your dick's announcing it pretty loudly." He glanced down at Cas' obvious erection, but Cas just blinked at him, and damn him for his angelic lack of shame.

"You know I like what I see, Dean," he murmured. "I find you very arousing."

"S'good," Dean said, squirming. "Be a little awkward right now if you didn't."

Cas drew a finger down his chest, then picked up the panties from where Dean had dropped them on the bed, draping them over Dean's cock.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

"Um... soft," Dean said. "Cool and -- cool and soft."

Cas reached up and squeezed him gently through the fabric. "Do you like it?"

"Fuck, Cas," Dean groaned, and Cas tightened his grip.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," Dean spit out, blushing, and Cas smiled, leaning in to press a long kiss to his mouth.

"Do you want to wear them?" Cas whispered, moving his lips against his neck, and he could feel Dean's teeth clench. He rubbed the fabric over the head of Dean's cock. "Or I could stop touching you," he offered.

"No," Dean said, face burning.

"No, you don't want to?"

"No, don't stop touching me. I'll put them on."

"I didn't ask if you'd put them on, Dean," Cas said into his ear, dropping his voice. "I know you'll put them on. I asked if you _wanted_ them on."

"Yes," he ground out. "Yes, I want them."

"Ask me nicely," Cas all but purred. "Ask me nicely and I'll put your pretty little panties on you."

"Fuck, Cas," he begged. Cas just sighed and moved his hand away.

"That isn't asking very nicely." He trailed his hand upwards, then twisted roughly on his nipple.

"Please," Dean cried out reflexively. "Yes, please, put them on -- put my panties on me."

Cas let out a low moan, his cock jerking painfully at Dean's words. "Good boy," he said, biting gently at Dean's ear. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

He moved down Dean's body, dragging the silk off Dean's cock slowly, already damp in spots with precome. Castiel brought the material to his lips, inhaling faint traces of Dean's scent, and Dean growled.

"I love the way you smell," Cas said, sincerely. "Your skin smells like outdoors. Like leaves, and leather." He kissed the inside of each ankle, then hooked the panties over Dean's feet, tugging them up his calves. He bit Dean's shinbone, and Dean yelped; he licked the tiny red dents apologetically. 

"Like the Impala, and your jacket." He inhaled further, pulling the silk up almost absently. "Like autumn," he continued. "You remind me of October, have I ever told you that? If October were a person, with a soul, it would be you. Maybe that's why your soul glows so bright and gold."

Dean was panting audibly, between the sensations moving up his body and the intensity of Castiel's words. He shifted his hips, and Cas finally pulled the waistband up and over his hips, then leaned back, then leaned back, staring up and down Dean's body.

After few moments passed, Dean opened his eyes. "What?" he snapped, clearly self-conscious. "Changed your mind?"

Cas smiled at him and bent down, mouthing at the wetness leaking through the fabric. Dean's breath hitched.

"I want to make you come like this," Cas said against the material. "And then I want to fuck you. May I?"

Dean let out a whine. "Gonna make me come like this whether you _want_ to or not," he said.

Cas mouthed at his cock, then pulled off. "I wish you could see yourself," he murmured, slipping his fingertips under the waistband at his hips. "You are art.

"Cas, please," Dean whispered. "I can't hold off much longer."

Cas licked a long, wet stripe along Dean's cock, then sucked the head into his mouth, precome dripping onto his tongue even through the material.

"Cas, Cas, I can't --" His hips jerked and he cried out, and Cas could feel the hot liquid pooling under his tongue as he came. He twitched, gasping. "Cas, I'm sorry, I couldn't --"

Castiel just smiled at him, soft and sweet. He carefully sucked at the fabric, tasting Dean's come seeping through, and pressed slow, gentle licks, then pulled off, stripping off his clothes.

"I wish," he said, looking up at Dean, then paused. "Do you know what you look like to me?"

Dean gave him a weak smirk. "Hot piece of ass?" he said. "Uh… who's wearing girls' underwear?"

"I remember the first time I came to the Earth," he said, not taking his lips far from Dean's cock. "Do you know that? I remember the first time I saw the sun. It's not like that, in Heaven. So much light, but there's no sun." He sucked harder at Dean's panties, drawing more come through the fabric, into his mouth, and Dean's cock was stirring again, already.

"And I've been here for so long," he continued. "So much beauty on this planet. Even after millennia, it's breathtaking." He suckled Dean down again, and began reaching behind him, under the silk, pressing into him.

"But you can never," he breathed, "never see the firsts again. Never see the sunrise for the first time, again." There was enough come on the panties that Castiel could gather it on his fingertips and push inside.

"But I can," he said, and his voice was raw and open. "Every time I look at you, every time I touch you, it's like I see the sun for the first time, like I smell the rain."

"Cas," Dean said, shaking. "Cas, please…"

Castiel drew back, urging him over onto his stomach and kissing down his back. He slid the silk down his ass, but left it caught over Dean's cock. Aligning himself, he traced one hand down the length of Dean's body.

"You feel like fire," he said, sliding inside and crossing his arms over Dean's hips.

"Jesus, Cas, Jesus, fuck," he said in an endless litany. "Cas, mine, fuck, _mine _…"__

__Cas wrapped his hand tightly around the fabric over Dean's cock, and at the second spill of hot liquid he finally let go, twisting desperately against Dean, falling against him._ _

__Finally Dean shifted, and Cas opened his eyes._ _

__"Dude," he said, pulling the silk away from his skin. "Jesus." He yanked the panties off with a squelch. Cas met his eyes for a moment, and they both dissolved into laughter._ _

__Dean rolled over, wrapping his arms around Castiel's chest._ _

__"One of these days, little angel," he murmured, planting lazy kisses on skin. "Gonna figure out what makes you tick."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter marks 50k words of fics I've written in the last couple months since I started writing this shit, which is pretty much bananas in comparison to the zero words of fiction I'd written prior to that.
> 
> Y'all are amazing, and I can't really describe how much you motherfuckers have increased my enjoyment of and confidence in writing in general.
> 
> And I figured, y'know, nothing like a good old panty kink chapter to go all sappy and shit on you guys.
> 
> Also, for the record, I kind of dislike the word "panties" so this was a fucking bitch, yo.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Personal space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

"What's the deal with your wings, anyway?" Dean asked, stretching lazily against the headboard.

Castiel frowned. "I have no deal with my wings."

Dean snorted and tried again. "No, like... I can't usually see them, right? But sometimes I can? Are they always, like, there?

Cas hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose you could consider them physical manifestations of my grace. Usually they exist only in my true form. I believe they manifest partially on this plane when I experience high emotion."

"Or when you come really hard?" Dean offered cheerfully.

Cas rolled his eyes and shrugged. "It applies," he said, and Dean smirked.

He reached out and smoothed a hand idly down Cas' shoulderblades, and Cas pressed back into the touch.

"Is that why I could see them so much more clearly the other night? When we -- when I could feel your grace?"

"I believe so," Cas murmured. "When the bond between us is especially strong."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Cas making small happy sounds as Dean traced over the skin of his back.

"Are they ever, like, really-real?" Dean asked finally. "Y'know, like, not hints and shadows, but actual and whole?"

"If I were to intentionally manifest them on this plane, then yes, they would be a physical part of this vessel's body. It would be quite dangerous. As you know, even the vestigial shadows of my true form can be catastrophic to human eyes, and my wings alone would likely be… overwhelming."

They toyed with their beers, each lost in thought.

"Could you," Dean finally said. "I mean. Could you -- do you think it would hurt me? Seeing them? Like really seeing them?"

Cas eyed him. "It's possible," he said. "You couldn't hear my voice, but neither did it destroy you. And that was many years ago, before we -- before we became closer.

"Could we -- could we try? Only if you're cool with it," Dean rushed to add. "I dunno if it'd be -- weird for you or anything."

Cas looked at him for a long moment, then reached over and pressed his hand against Dean's left shoulder. Dean sucked in a breath but didn't say anything.

"You have echoes of my grace in you," Cas said finally. "I think you could perceive them." Dean fit his hand over Cas', gripping hard, and he felt again that familiar-unfamiliar spark coursing in his blood. "But, Dean," he said, sounding strangely shy, "they're -- they're not like normal wings."

"Well, yeah," Dean said. "Didn't expect you to go full on owl-mode."

"No," Cas sighed, "they're unusual for angel wings as well," as though Dean had any frame of reference. "As I said, our wings are a physical reflection of our grace. Anna's were pure white, and Gabriel's like spun gold. Black wings are considered… flawed. Cursed. Naomi said that Heaven should have known I would rebel because of my wings."

"Yeah, well, you're talkin' to the poster boy of flawed and cursed," Dean said with a small laugh. "And Naomi was a fuckin' douche. Cas, from the glimpses I've got, your wings are the most beautiful fuckin' shit I've ever seen. Except maybe your face. Or your skin, or…" he trailed off, following the lines of Castiel's body with his eyes, and Cas blushed.

"All right," he said finally. "We can try. Not here, though. The space would be far too confining."

The smell of fresh night air suddenly surrounded them, and Dean blinked and stumbled.

"Jesus, Cas! Warn a guy!"

"My apologies," Cas said. They were standing in an open meadow, tiny flowers scattered through the soft grass. A small pond glittered in the moonlight, ringed by weeping willows.

"Nice place," Dean said. "Tired of the ocean, huh?"

"I did not want to expose my wings to the sand, no."

Dean blinked. "You had them out in the water..."

Cas shook his head. "They were only partially manifested," he said. "When fully corporeal they are as vulnerable to physical irritation as the rest of the body."

He began unbuttoning his shirt, and Dean wondered if there would ever come a point at which the sight of the angel undressing failed to leave his mouth dry. He hoped not.

"Turn around," Cas instructed him, and Dean looked at him quizzically. "Dean, I have never fully manifested my wings in front of a human in this form. I don't believe it will be harmful to you, but there is a risk."

Dean nodded and turned around, closing his eyes. Cas dropped his shirt to the ground and hesitated. He knew he was being needlessly reckless, not to mention selfish, putting Dean in possible danger. He should have refused, but ever since he felt his grace twining into Dean's soul, he knew he never would.

He threw back his head, summoned his grace, and let his wings unfurl.

Dean heard a rustle of wind, and felt a buzzing begin in his belly, but he didn't feel like anything was about to burn his eyes out.

"Cas?" he called out tentatively.

"You can turn around."

Dean turned around and opened his eyes, and he felt the air disappear from his lungs in a rush. Castiel's wings were _nothing_ like the shapes and shadows he'd caught glimpses of before. They arched up past his shoulders and dripped down in inky black, feathers thick and defined and achingly real. These were not even in the same _universe_ as those suggestions he'd seen before.

Because, he thought with a slightly hysterical giggle, they really weren't.

"Dean?" Cas said softly, and Dean realized he'd been staring, slack-jawed and silent. He dragged his eyes to Castiel's face. Castiel was looking up at him nervously through his eyelashes, biting his lip. "Is it -- do you -- I can put them away…"

Dean lurched forward to stop him, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and yanking him in for a kiss. Cas stiffened, then melted into it.

"Jesus Christ," Dean finally said, breaking away, "you have been holding out on me, little angel."

Cas smiled and ruffled his feathers, and Dean's stomach twisted, because even the gestures of his goddamned wings were so ridiculously, unmistakably, unbelievably _Cas_.

"May I… may I touch them?" he asked.

Cas nodded, and Dean reached behind him. His hand hovered uncertainly. He didn't want to overstep, he didn't even know what angels even _liked_ with their wings, but fuck, he wanted to bury his hands in those feathers.

So he decided to do just that.

He kept one hand around Cas' waist and pressed the other against his shoulderblade, where he'd been stroking not long before, but now his fingers were met with liquid-silk feathers instead of smooth perfect skin, and his heart hammered in his chest.

Cas let out a soft moan, and Dean froze. "Does this -- does this hurt you?" he asked. "I don't exactly know much about pettin' feathers."

"No," he whispered. "They're just very -- very sensitive."

"Like an angel-massage?" Dean raked his hand from Cas' shoulder down through the wing as much as he could reach, and Cas' knees buckled.

"Whoa there, angel-mine," Dean said with a small laugh. "You weren't kidding 'bout that."

"No one has touched my wings in centuries," Cas said softly.

Something constricted in Dean's chest.

"Well, listen here, I'll touch your feathery ass anytime you want," he said, clearing his throat. He smoothed his hand down Cas' wing again, and the angel hissed and shuddered.

It should have been sexual, and it was close enough to be kissing-cousins with sexual, but it wasn't, not quite. It was just tender and gorgeous and unfathomably intimate.

Dean urged Cas down to the ground, until he was sitting cross-legged, blinking up at him owlishly, and then moved around to sit at his back. He pressed a light kiss to the base of his neck, then began running his hands through both the wings.

Cas groaned, and the sound was almost filthy but still so sweet. He leaned his head back to rest on Dean's shoulder, and Dean felt himself getting half-hard, but he didn't actually have the urge to act on it, instead just dropping small kisses into Cas' hair and murmuring into his skin. Cas' grace was swirling in his blood now, leaving him dizzy.

He gently pushed Cas further down onto the grass, until the angel was sprawled on his stomach, his face pillowed on his arms. He kissed along Cas' neck and back, and couldn't resist burying his face in the feathers.

Cas arched and twisted, and Dean pulled back, because it didn't seem like the arching and twisting that Dean had grown to crave.

"Cas? Cas, baby, you OK? You gotta work with me here, no idea what I'm doing…"

Cas relaxed, and Dean could see the corners of his mouth turning up into a languid smile.

"Yes, Dean," he murmured. "This makes me… very happy."

Dean nuzzled his face into Cas' wing, then shifted himself so he was situated on his knees back over Cas' calves. He took a deep breath, then sank his hands into the feathers right up at the shoulder blades, and dragged his fingers right down into the tips.

Cas let out a muffled cry, but Dean could tell it wasn't pain.

"All right, little angel?" he murmured, and he smiled at Cas' soft sound of assent.

It felt almost dreamlike, the hypnotic preening of Cas' feathers. Castiel's grace sang in his veins, and it was disconcerting, without the immediacy of sex. 

He stroked his hands down rhythmically, shoulder to end, occasionally shifting to rake both hands through one wing, or to bury his face in the other, or to just tilt the angel's face up to plant soft kisses on his jaw.

"Are we dreaming, Cas?" he asked, his voice low and drugged. "Are we in Heaven?"

Cas shifted onto his back, carefully keeping his wings extended, and stared up at Dean.

"No," he said finally. "This isn't Heaven, really. And it's not a dream. When you touch my wings, my grace… I think we're in my own heaven."

Dean blinked, but he didn't stop stroking the feathers. "I thought your heaven was a Tuesday afternoon…"

Cas laughed, a small, sad laugh. He reached up and drew Dean's mouth down to his.

"Dean," he said, with a hint of heartbreak in his voice, "you know by now an angel's heaven might change."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally added to this pile of pornography! 
> 
> And instead of being posted the instant I drunkenly type out the last word this one's actually been beta'd by the amazing [betty days](http://bettydays.tumblr.com/), who if you haven't read [every damn thing she writes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sadrobots/pseuds/betty%20days) you should probably reconsider some life choices.
> 
> Rating: E

Dean and Cas were sitting at the rickety table in the motel kitchenette. Dean was shirtless, clad only in worn jeans undone at the waist, and Cas was eating a sandwich and reading, occasionally feeding Dean a bite.

It would have been a tender scene, Dean thought with a snort, if his hands weren’t bound to the chair behind his back and his ankles tied tight to the legs, and his cock rock-hard in his jeans.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Cas called without looking up, and Dean twitched, glaring daggers at him.

"Hey," Sam said, poking his head into the room. "So get this. So there's…"

He trailed off, glancing between Dean and Cas in confusion. Dean's jaw was clenched and he was staring at the floor, while Cas looked up at Sam innocently with a smirk playing at his lips. They were both clearly paying him no heed.

Sam's eyes strayed from the blush on Dean's face -- studiously not looking at him -- to the awkward positioning of his arms, and finally to his legs.

"Oh my _God_ ," he said, stumbling back. "Cas! I thought we were trying _not_ to scar each other! Am I the only sane one in this fucking place? And that's _fucking saying something_." He spun away and slammed the door. Cas just stared after him absently.

"You get off on that, don't you," Dean growled. "When Sammy and Gabe see me under your control."

"Yes," Cas said simply, turning a page of his book. "I do."

"Figures. Kinky fucking angel," he snarled.

Cas sighed. He marked his page and closed the book, the picture of nonchalance, and crossed to the bed to pick up another tie, then leaned down and kissed Dean, soft and sweet.

"You can't just let go, can you, Dean?" he whispered. He wrapped the tie around his mouth and knotted it behind his head, then sat back down to finish his sandwich, while Dean glowered.

Dean had experienced many things in his thirty-odd years, but he had never expected to be dealing with an angel of the fucking Lord exploring his sexuality. Let alone going along for the ride.

He had yet to figure out any way to anticipate Cas' moods on a given day: whether he'd find himself flat on his back while the angel worshipped his body with his mouth, or thrown up against the wall getting fucked into oblivion, or --

Or tied half-naked to a kitchen chair while the smug fucker sat across the table, calmly finishing his lunch.

It was, Dean thought, biting back a whine, almost as disconcerting as it was really goddamn hot.

Finally Cas got up, cleaned the crumbs off the table and straddled Dean's legs, settling on his thighs. He didn't speak, only traced a thumb over Dean's lip, smoothing a hand down his stomach, twisting fingers hard in his hair. He watched as the expressions flickered across his features: frustration into lust, pleasure into aggravation.

"You know you do the same to me," he said, kissing his jaw. "You've had me under your control as well. I don't understand why it bothers you."

Dean made a high, incoherent noise behind the silk in his mouth, and Cas smiled. He bent over, lips slipping down his throat and his chest, then sliding off until he was kneeling on the floor between his legs, looking up. He rested his cheek on Dean's knee.

"Don't you like this?" he continued. "I like this. You're the one restrained, but I'm on my knees, and I'm going to suck your cock." He paused. "It's like what we've done before, isn't it? Juxtaposition, contrast?"

Dean whined, and Cas pressed his mouth into his crotch before pulling back. He yanked the jeans down, then the boxers, until they were pooled at Dean's feet, then sat back on his heels, staring up.

"I love to take you apart," he said, tracing his fingers up Dean's calves. "I love it when you take me apart." He bit down hard on the inside of a thigh, making Dean yelp.

He reached up and twisted a finger into the makeshift gag, and Dean's breathing hitched.

"You're so fascinating, Dean," he murmured. "You're so strong, yet so malleable." He bent down, dragging his tongue along Dean's cock. "You love it when I do this to you, don't you?"

He sat back slightly, waiting. Dean hissed, flushing. Even if the state of his hard and dripping cock wasn't confirmation enough, he had stopped trying to deny to himself how much he loved the angel taking control. Admittedly, his favorite mood of Castiel's tended to change in accordance with whatever he happened to be doing to Dean at any particular moment, but nothing, Dean had discovered, pushed his buttons quite so hard as when Cas' eyes went feral and dangerous and his voice dropped even lower into dark and filthy tones.

He nodded reluctantly. 

Cas smiled. "Good," he said, and swallowed him down.

Dean jerked, trying to thrust into Cas' throat, but his binds kept him still.

"Do you want me to untie you?" Cas asked. "I will. But I don't want to."

Dean stared down at him, spit leaking down his chin, and Cas reached up to swipe it away. Finally he shook his head.

"You're sure?" Cas said, leaning up to kiss Dean over the silk, and Dean moaned.

"Good boy," Cas whispered, and dropped back down to mouth at Dean's cock. "I wish," he said, increasing his pace. "I wish you could give yourself up to me. Not that I mind breaking you down," he added, letting his voice vibrate. "God, I'd have you like this every day. But I want to see what you look like when you finally stop fighting."

He stood up and stripped off his clothes, then sat back on Dean's lap.

"I could do anything to you," he said, conversationally. He slipped his hand between Dean's legs, stroking him gently. "You know that, don't you? I don't even need these," he continued, tugging at the bonds and leaning down to suck on a nipple. "But you know I love seeing you in silk."

He reached down and untied Dean's left wrist, brought it up and sucked on his finger, then pressed it between his own legs, and Dean let out a whimper.

"You don't have to be in control," he whispered, breath stuttering as he pushed Dean's fingers inside himself. He yanked at the knot gagging Dean's mouth and ground down at the same time, leaning in for a wet, filthy kiss.

"I want to hear you," he growled, pulling the tie down to his neck. "I want to feel you inside me."

He kissed Dean again, long and hard, stretching himself on his hand.

"Cas, fuck," Dean groaned, tugging against his remaining binds. "Wanna touch you, wanna feel you."

"No," Cas said, raggedly. He pulled Dean's fingers out, twisting his wrist, and grabbed his cock with his other hand, aligning it with his hole. Dean tried to thrust up and Cas smacked him on the hip.

He sank down slightly and paused, muscles working in his sleek thighs.

"Fuck's sake, Dean," he growled, and Dean wondered distantly when he had developed a kink for angelic profanity.

"Cas," he begged, flexing his wrists. "Cas, _please_ \--"

"No, Dean," Cas said again, pinning his hand to the wall. "Don't beg unless you mean it. You don't want me to let you up."

Dean let out a weak sob, tilting his head back, and Cas took the opportunity to suck at his throat, then pressed down further, taking him deeper

"You love it when I curse, don't you?" Cas said, conversationally, and Dean flushed harder.

"Y'know, most people's boyfriends can't read their fucking minds," he mumbled.

"I'm not reading your mind, Dean," Cas said. He bit his lip as he finally sank down all the way, self-control crumbling at the edges. "I've broken you apart and I've pieced you back together. I don't need to read your mind."

"Cas," Dean groaned, straining instinctively.

"Don't fight." He tugged at Dean's hair and locked his ankles around his legs until he stilled. "Good boy," he whispered.

Finally Cas began to move, thighs flexing. He kept one hand in Dean's hair and the other still shoving Dean's free wrist to the wall, gripping it for leverage hard enough to bruise. Dean twisted his hands, but he fought down the urge to struggle.

"Fuck, just like this, Dean," he murmured brokenly, grinding up and down. "Let me have you."

"Yours, I'm _yours_ ," Dean hissed. He arched his back, trying to move with the rhythm Cas set, and Cas cried out.

"God, you're so good for me when you let go," he said, and kissed Dean hard and dirty. "You feel so fucking good."

"Cas," Dean moaned, sounding drugged. "Cas, please…"

Cas twisted his hand in Dean's hair once, hard, then brought his hand down to stroke his own cock.

"Fuck, Dean," he growled into his ear, biting at the shell. "Fuck, you're so -- Jesus, Dean -- Jesus fucking _Christ_ \--"

He picked up the pace, ignoring the burning in his thigh muscles, no longer preventing Dean from thrusting up to meet him.

" _Cas_ ," Dean cried. "Cas, please, I can't -- love you, fuck -- so _much_ \-- please, please, let me, _please_ \--"

Cas interrupted his litany of pleas and praise with a hand over his mouth.

"Yes, Dean," he whispered brokenly. "Let go."

He shoved himself down as hard as he could and Dean threw back his head, mouth open, his entire body jerking with his orgasm. Cas reached out blindly to cushion Dean's head against the wall, but at the sound of Dean's orgasm he was coming so hard he barely registered his skull pressing into his palm.

Cas sank back down, muscles relaxing, and released Dean's wrist from the wall. Dean tilted his forehead against his shoulder, and brought his hand up behind the angel's neck.

"God," he said, not bothering to struggle with his other hand. "Think you've ruined me."

Cas smiled. "Not God," he whispered, kissing Dean's head. "Not anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback/criticism, pictures of puppies, etc, are welcome as always! Especially the pictures of puppies.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter little chapter of Sabriel-centric fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know: I neglect these two assholes terribly. It's not out of malice, I promise!
> 
> Rating: T

"Seriously, Gabe. What the fuck are we doing here?"

Gabriel grinned up at Sam. "We're playing minigolf," he said, selecting a club. "I thought that was fairly obvious."

Sam sighed. "You are a _child_." He ruffled through the assortment of golf clubs. "Dude, these like come up to my _knees_."

"Serves you right for being eight feet tall," Dean said.

Cas just looked confused.

"Guess you'll just have to bend over then," Gabriel said, scampering off. "Lucky me."

"Can you not?" Dean called after him.

Sam groaned. He picked a club at random and followed Gabriel out to the course. The air was hot and hazy, and the threat of thunderstorms hung low in the grey evening sky, so the place was nearly empty.

"I still don't understand how you convinced us to play _minigolf_ ," Sam grumbled.

"Because I've never done it," Gabriel replied, as if it were obvious. "And I am very convincing."

"Golfing with an archangel," Sam sighed. "Well, I guess I can scratch _that_ off my bucket list."

"I don't understand the mechanics, Dean," Castiel's voice drifted from behind, and Sam snorted.

"Pretty sure there should be some sort of angel handicap," he informed Gabriel. "Well, maybe not for Cas," he amended. "But you, definitely."

"If I didn’t know better I'd suspect you think I'd use my archangelic power for inappropriate purposes," Gabriel said. "I'm offended, little moose."

Sam rolled his eyes. He dropped a hot pink golf ball on the green and swung at it awkwardly, and it landed a respectable distance from the hole.

"I think you need to bend over more," Gabriel said, straight-faced. Sam raised a middle finger.

On his next shot the ball rolled to the hole, teetered, then tumbled in.

"Hah! Suck it," Sam said, swinging his club. He fumbled with the notepad and tiny pencil, marking down his score. 

Gabriel clapped politely. He set his bright yellow ball down, eying it thoughtfully, and teed off. It rolled towards its mark -- then began to circle the hole lazily, like a fucking drain, before falling in with a satisfying _thwunk_.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Showoff," he muttered, but he couldn’t help laughing. He balled up the scorecard and threw it at him.

They played through several more holes, Gabriel sinking his shots in increasingly ridiculous ways, before they glanced back to check on Dean and Cas. They were still at the first fucking green, and Dean had his arms around the angel from behind, ostensibly demonstrating how to swing a golf club, but the mouth attached to Cas' neck suggested slight ulterior motives.

"Oh, God," Sam groaned. "We're going to be here all day."

"Well," Gabriel said with a grin, "I'm sure we can find some interesting nooks and crannies hidden away to explore."

Sam snorted. "Which is likely more than can be said for those idiots. I swear to God, if we get arrested for public indecency… No, you know what, the irony would totally be worth it."

"Ah, I'm glad you're on board," Gabe said, reaching up to yank Sam's head down for a kiss.

Sam groaned and leaned into it, then pushed him slightly away. "I'm OK with the arrested bit," he said. "However, I'd just as soon not add 'traumatizing a group of eight year olds' to my ever-growing list of things I feel guilty about."

"Well, they're already growing up in Florida," Gabriel pointed out. "Not much room left for trauma to begin with."

"Fair point," Sam agreed.

By the time they got to the weird little cave-thing on a hill, Dean and Cas had still showed no signs of catching up, nor had anyone else appeared on the course. The air inside was surprisingly cool and dry, deliciously refreshing after the oppressive heat, and they flopped down on a little fake-stone bench.

"So, who's winning?" Gabriel asked brightly, and Sam flicked him on the shoulder.

"I don't keep score with dirty angel cheaters," he informed him.

"I am not," Gabriel protested. "I mean -- OK, cheater, yes. And angel. And dir- -- OK, you know what, I'm losing this argument."

Sam laughed. "Well, there's a first for everything."

"Mm," Gabriel agreed. "Like having sex in a cave on a minigolf course in Florida?"

"Was this your motive all along?" Sam asked, starting to laugh again.

"No," Gabe said. "But, hey, opportunity knocks…" He swung his leg over Sam's lap and nibbled at his lip.

"Mm," Sam said, wrapping his hand in his hair. "You do make a convincing argument."

They kissed for a few minutes, but when it began to intensify Sam broke away.

"Dude," he said. "We'll get in so much trouble."

Gabriel stared at him, then burst out laughing.

"What?" Sam said, defensively.

"Sam," he said. He lifted a hand. "You've been killing monsters since you were a kid," he continued, ticking off a finger. "You've died. Repeatedly. You've been to Hell. You've been possessed by _Lucifer_. You _started the fucking apocalypse_. And right now you're making out with an _archangel_ , and you're worried about getting caught by a _minigolf employee_?"

Sam paused, sheepish. "Well, when you put it like that." He kissed back more fervently, and within a few minutes both their jeans were undone, and the sounds coming out getting less subtle.

"Ahem," said a voice a few feet away.

"Go _away_ , Dean," Sam mumbled, dropping his mouth to slide at the angel's neck.

"In case you were unaware," said an unfamiliar voice, and they jerked apart instantly, "this is a children's establishment. As such, we, by law, have security cameras everywhere." The man shook his head. "Thankfully there are no children on site at the moment, but I'll thank you to leave the premises."

There was a mischievous glint in Gabriel's eye, so Sam spoke up hurried, trying to sound appropriately ashamed.

"O-of course, sir. Our apologies."

They abandoned their clubs and scampered down the hill, taking a shortcut over a small stream.

"C'mon, Sammy," Gabriel whined. "I could've just wiped his memory."

Sam rolled his eyes. "If you're going to stick with us, _inconspicuous_ is a word you might want to read up on."

Gabriel, for a wonder, shut his mouth.

"Fair point, he said meekly.

"Ugh, I wonder if Dean and Cas are ever actually going to get done," Sam said as they wandered out, but to his surprise they were sitting on the trunk of the car. "The fuck?" Sam said. "Last time I saw you guys were about to get married on the first green."

Dean rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, we… kind of got kicked out."

Sam and Gabriel looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Oh, God," Sam said, wiping his eyes. "Hunting with the Winchesters. Apocalypse? No problem! But minigolf 1, Winchesters 0." He snorted. "So you guys have just been waiting?"

"Well," Dean supplied, and Cas studiously looked at the ground.

Sam glanced between them, now noticing their rumpled clothes, and his eyes flicked to the strange smears on the window glass, and he groaned.

"Dude! We have to _sit there_ , you guys! You couldn’t control yourselves for like _ten fucking minutes_?"

"Oh, it was more than ten fucking minutes, Sammy," Dean said with a grin, and Cas elbowed him in the ribs. "And you've sat in the kitchen chairs in the motel room already, so. And on the bed. And --"

"Need to know basis, Dean," Sam interrupted loudly, covering his ears. 

"Anyway, I didn't see you two playin' through the 18th hole," Dean pointed out, smirking. "So who won?"

"Gabriel, of course," Sam said in exasperated affection. "Gabriel always wins."

"Well, you know," Gabriel said, gesturing at his face with a wink. "Archangel."


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

Dean and Cas wandered barefoot over the sandy rocks, picking their way over the prickly weeds in the dunes. The moon slunk low in the sky, and the city lights had faded to a soft iridescence in the north.

Dean grabbed Cas' hand, hopping between inexplicable patches of old boardwalk still wedged into the beach. He stumbled back, yanking Cas with him, barely avoiding the pile of beer-bottle shards glinting in the half-light. He grimaced, and stepped carefully across.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean paused, chewing his lip. "You've seen the ocean, right? In other places?"

Cas nodded. "Yes. Not for any length of time, but yes."

"Is it like this?"

Cas cocked his head, still moving gracefully between the shadowy dunes. Dean reached down, sifting his hand in the sand, and stood up, watching the moonlight reflected in the grains running through his fingers. He sat down, staring at the ocean, and Cas folded himself next to him.

"I dunno," Dean finally said. "This wasn't what I imagined, when I thought of the ocean. I thought of, you know, Malibu. Or New England or somethin'. Feels strange here. Old. Almost… I dunno. Primeval. Primordial. Is there a difference?"

"Not to me," Cas said softly. He nuzzled his head on Dean's shoulder, then turned his face up in thought.

"It's absurd," he said, "to think any of these cities are old. They are infants, compared to the civilizations before them, before their violence and greed. And yet, it's impossibly relevant. There is history here, under the sand." He lapsed into a silence.

"Why is it like this?" Dean finally ventured. "It's so… developed… everywhere else. Why is this left alone?"

Cas paused. "Do you know where we are?"

"Uh… bumfuck-Florida? Middleish-east, presumably?" Dean said with a laugh.

"Mm," Cas agreed. "Canaveral National Seashore, to be exact."

Dean turned this over in his head. "As in _Cape_ Canaveral? You mean --"

Cas smiled, reaching up to tilt Dean's head to the south, where the dull glow of the Space Center still shone, impotently.

"Holy shit, that's where --"

"Yes," Cas said. "I used to watch them," he admitted. "I watched humanity on earth for so long. And I watched them leave earth. How…" He gave a frustrated growl.

"I think that sowed my first doubts," he said. "Raphael, and Michael, and so many others, they thought of humans as such -- such worms. But I came here, and I watched you launch yourselves off of your planet with nothing but math, and your own minds. It was astonishing.''

Dean was silent for a moment. "Did you see..." he began, then trailed off. "I remember watchin' on TV when the _Challenger_ exploded. I was only seven or eight, but s'one of those things, y'know, everyone remembers where they were when it happened, right? Sammy was too young, a'course, but even he understood something happened. Somethin' big."

Cas nodded. "I was here," he said softly. "Right here."

"Wow," Dean said after a moment. "So you, like, _saw_ it - saw it."

"Yes."

Dean toyed with a long blade of beach grass, trying to imagine it. He pulled off the sandspurs and flicked them absently across the sand.

"What was it like?" he finally asked.

Cas hummed, staring at the sky. Dean had, for a wonder, convinced him to ditch the trench coat and tie, and the sea breeze pulled gently at his untucked shirt.

"It was a strange moment," he said at last. "You knew immediately that something wasn't right, somehow. I remember the sensation of the entire world holding its breath, and the crackling tension of loss... There was something so pure and innocent about space flight, a celebration of human accomplishments. The moment the smoke plumed across the sky, that was shattered forever, and it was palpable."

He paused, wiggling his toes in the sand.

"Some of the angels thought it was just," he continued with a sigh, and a muscle twitched in Dean's jaw. "That it was God's punishment meted out unto humanity for reaching beyond what was given to them."

"Dicks," Dean muttered, and Cas made a noise of assent.

"It shook my faith further," he admitted. "I couldn't understand why God would punish humans for wishing to explore more of His creation. It made no sense, yet so many angels accepted it without question. Even those who cared, on some level, about humanity."

Dean listened with interest. Cas had told him of his doubts, of course, that day at the park so long ago, but he never spoke of their origins, the seeds that grew into a rebellion against Heaven itself.

"Why are you different, Cas?" he said, reaching out to lace their fingers together. "I mean, don't get me wrong," he added with a small laugh, "I'm pretty fuckin' glad you're not like those angelic douchebags. But... why?"

Cas didn't answer right away, leaning against Dean and stretching out his legs. Dean turned his head, burying his face in the messy hair, and Cas smiled. The warm air wrapped them in the smell of salt and honeysuckle, and the waves crashed hypnotically in the darkness.

"I don't know," he finally said. "I suppose, in this respect, the Heavenly Host is not so different from humanity. No angel is like another. When my Father created me, he infused me with the capacity for doubt. Perhaps, in his absence, it has blossomed.

Dean nodded, considering.

"And I am not the only angel to deviate from our set paths," he added. "Anna, Gabriel, Balthazar... Even Lucifer, of course. Many lifetimes ago I would said that my doubts were a part of God's intended pattern, but now..." He gave a small shrug. "I am as I was created, however that may be."

"Perfect," Dean declared, dropping loud, smacking kisses into the angel's hair. "If your dad got one thing right, it's you."

Cas snorted softly. "Need I illustrate how inaccurate that statement is?"

"Fine," Dean amended. "Perfect _for me_. Better?"

"Is that including all the times I lied to you and betrayed you? And Sam?" Cas asked without lifting his head, but Dean just wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, Cas," he said without hesitation. "It is. You think I could fall in love with someone who doesn’t know what it feels like to do the wrong thing for the right reasons? Over and over again?"

Cas just sighed into his neck, and turned his head to stare out to sea. The drone of cicadas picked up in the marshland behind them, melting into the rhythm of the shifting tides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter, it may get some heavy editing. Thoughts, please?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little half-assed; I kept staring at this, trying to finish it instead of doing things I abso-fucking-lutely need to be doing, so I just fucking finished it. So have some graphic gay porn.
> 
> also hey this dings 40k words of a single story I never actually intended to write, I love you guys <3
> 
> Rating: E

"You sure 'bout this, Cas?" Dean asked for the third time.

They had been spending a lazy afternoon in their room, half-dressed and watching shitty daytime TV, when Cas had suddenly vanished. He'd reappeared a few moments later, fully clothed and face inscrutable, thrusting a small bag at Dean. Dean had opened it with some trepidation, half-expecting to pull out a lacy black thong and some fucking garters or something, but inside was a long, flexible piece of blue plastic, flared at one end.

Cas huffed out an exasperated sigh, and Dean raised his hands, the vibrator bobbing comically with the motion.

"I just don't want to hurt you!" he said, and Cas raised an eloquent eyebrow. "OK, I don't want to hurt you _accidentally_ ," he amended with a smirk.

"Dean," Cas said, "your penis is substantially larger than this, and I find it very pleasurable."

"Ah, that angelic dirty talk," Dean said, grinning. "And yeah, but my dick doesn't _vibrate_."

Cas sighed again. "If it is unpleasant, we can stop. I'm simply… curious."

"Yeah, I'm gettin' well acquainted with your _curiosity_ ," Dean muttered, fidgeting with the toy. "Not that I'm fuckin' complaining." He accidentally flicked the on/off button, and jumped as it began buzzing in his hand. He turned it off, setting it on the nightstand, then clambered up to straddle the angel's lap.

"You really are gonna kill me, y'know," he said, brushing his lips against Cas'. "You may have superhuman angel stamina, but I'm just a dude in his mid-thirties. My heart's gonna give out."

Castiel ran his hands down Dean's ribs. "I'll heal you," he murmured.

"Oh good," Dean said, only half-joking. "So my boyfriend can safely fuck me into a heart attack. Guess I actually _have_ found Heaven."

Cas didn’t reply, just leaned in to mouth across his throat, and his breathing hitched.

"Too many clothes," Dean muttered, reaching up to unbutton Cas' shirt. "Like you naked." He shoved at Cas' shirt with one hand and reached down to work at his slacks with the other. "How… how d'you wanna do this?"

Cas groaned, shifting his hips. Dean tugged his slacks and boxers off, then picked up the vibrator and sat back, considering. Cas lay still, watching him silently.

Finally Dean switched it on, just drawing it gently down Cas' ribcage. His breath caught in his throat, and Dean smiled, dragging it across his hipbones.

He leaned in and attached his mouth to a nipple, at the same time pressing the vibrator against the other one. Cas mewled and squirmed underneath him, and Dean pulled back slightly.

"Uh-uh," he chided, pressing harder. "This was your idea, remember? Do you want to stop?" Dean was fairly sure he knew the answer, given the state of Castiel's dick throbbing against his stomach, but he was gratified to hear him let out a breathy whimper.

"N-no," he said, biting his lip. "Please, Dean... m- _more_."

Dean smiled. "Needy little angel," he whispered, dropping small kisses over Cas' skin. "So hard for me already, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cas cried out, arching, and Dean smacked at his hip. "Dean..."

"Gonna have to hold still for me," Dean said, crawling down Cas' body. He spread Cas' legs apart and pressed the toy along his length. The angel bucked and writhed in a decidedly un-angelic way, and Dean gripped his hip hard, stilling him. "Can you do that?" he asked, not moving his hand. "Can you hold still for me?"

"I," Cas said, his voice high and uncertain. "I... don't know."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Am I gonna have to tie you up, little angel?"

Cas didn't reply, but his hips jerked traitorously. He bit his lip and looked away.

"That's not a no," Dean said. He let the toy fall away from Cas' cock, and Cas whined at the loss of contact, trying to press against Dean's body. Dean pushed him back down. "Not even anything inside you and you can't stay still," he whispered. "You want me to tie you up, Cas?"

Cas still didn't answer, and Dean spanked him sharply on the side of his ass, making him jump. "Gonna have to tell me, Cas," he said. He pushed Cas' legs up and apart, then pushed the vibrator between his legs, just barely grazing his hole.

Cas' hips came up off the bed of their own accord, and the blush creeping down his neck darkened further. Dean just waited, teasing him gently.

"Yes," Cas finally said.

"Yes, what?" Dean asked, smiling.

"Yes, please -- please tie me up," he said, and Dean growled.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, stroking over Cas' skin. "Gonna make you feel so good." He sat back and raked his eyes up and down Cas' body, considering how exactly he was going to do it.

Cas let himself be manhandled, and Dean pushed and pulled at his arms and legs, occasionally giving Cas' hole an experimental tap with the head of the vibrator, until Cas was a shivering, whimpering mess on the bed.

"Wanna keep you spread wide open for me," he said, pushing at Cas' knees until he was bent almost double. He wondered distantly if Jimmy Novak had been a yoga freak, or if angels were just blessed with superhuman flexibility.

Finally Dean just made Cas wrap his arms around his thighs, holding himself open. He fumbled around on the floor and came up with a bunch of ties, wrapping them in neat crisscrosses until Cas' forearms were securely bound to his legs.

"OK, angel?" he asked, tugging at the silk, and Cas nodded feverishly. "Gonna have to get some silk ropes someday," Dean added as an afterthought. "This'll work, though."

He picked up the vibrator again. Cas' cock was trapped against his stomach, and Dean rolled it against the head for a moment, making Cas cry out, then slid it back between his legs.

"I could just leave you here," he murmured conversationally. "Shove this toy inside you… maybe even tie it up against your dick. See how many times you can come without me even touching you…"

Cas let out a whine, staring at him with huge anxious eyes, and Dean laughed, leaning down to kiss him.

"I wouldn't do that to you," he said. "Even if I wanted to, no way I could restrain myself from touchin' you.

He grabbed the lube, drizzling it over his fingers. The toy wasn't as big as he was, but he still wasn't about to shove it in unprepared, and he slipped one finger in, just stroking gently. Cas jerked and tried to push down, but the binds kept him helpless, and Dean grinned.

"Yeah, good thing we got you all tied up," he said, sliding in another. He grabbed Cas' thigh with his free hand, pushing it further, and leaned down to mouth at his cock.

"Dean," Cas cried. "Dean, please..."

"Thought patience was a heavenly virtue," Dean murmured, earning himself a hazy glare.

He smiled and sat up, turning the vibe off and coating it with lube, and finally nudged it more firmly at Cas' entrance. Cas moaned and tried to spread his legs even further.

"So eager," Dean whispered. "Who knew my angel would turn out to be such a little cockslut?"

Cas tried to scowl down at him, but given his position it didn't hold much heat, and when Dean pushed the toy all the way in it turned into a groan of pleasure. Dean stroked one hand down his ribs, and flicked lightly at the base with the other.

"All right, little angel?" he said.

"Y-yes," he breathed. "Dean..."

Dean smiled into his thigh, then flicked the vibrator on low. Cas gasped and jerked, and Dean couldn't help an inappropriate snicker at the sight of the angel's usual sinuous grace all bound up and twitching.

He twisted it experimentally, pushing it in a little bit further, and he could tell the second it hit the right spot inside when Cas arched and tensed, his eyes fluttering closed as it vibrated directly on his prostate.

"You close already, Cas?" he said. "You like this thing that much?"

" _Yes_ ," he gasped. "Dean, please, please touch me --"

Dean hummed thoughtfully, his desire to suck Cas right down his throat warring with the gorgeous sight front of him.

"Mm… no," he finally said, and Cas' eyes shot open.

"Dean, you said you wouldn't --"

"I said I wouldn't _keep_ you like this," Dean clarified. "And I won't. But I dunno if I can pass up the chance to watch you fall apart like this." Without warning he switched the vibrator up to its highest setting, and Cas let out a choked sob, his eyes rolling back in his head so far Dean could barely see a hint of blue.

"Jesus, angel," Dean whispered. "So sensitive." He dragged one hand in a long, slow slide down the back of Cas' thigh, and at that touch alone Cas went rigid, crying out and coming in thick, hot spurts over his stomach and chest.

Dean stroked his skin through his orgasm until Cas' breathing slowed down, though he was still twitching under the assault of the vibrator.

"Dean," he said, biting his lip, "it -- will you --"

"No," Dean interrupted. "We're not done here."

Cas let out a low, agonized whine, and Dean just gave him a feral grin, but he reached down and switched the toy back to low, pulling it out slightly to give Cas' hypersensitive prostate a break, and Cas sighed in relief.

"You OK?" Dean asked seriously, tilting Cas' face to his.

Cas opened his eyes. "Mrrph," he confirmed, trying to urge Dean down to a kiss, and Dean smiled.

"Not gonna lie, a bit afraid of what you're gonna do to me with this when you're in the mood," Dean said. Cas' eyes darkened, but Dean just smirked. "Not today, little angel."

He kissed Cas slow and sweet, then traced his mouth down to his belly, licking at the smear of come. 

"I want you to fuck me," he said, tapping again on the base of the toy, "while this is inside you. Do you want to do that?"

Cas whimpered, and Dean sat back. "Not 'til you're ready," he said. "But God, I want you to."

He leaned down, spreading Cas open and pressing his tongue around the base of the toy. He drifted his fingers down Cas' cock, feeling it begin to harden again, and Cas moaned.

"Fuckin' angelic stamina," he said again. Sliding his fingers up to Cas' waist, he finally untied his legs, massaging the circulation back into them. "OK?" he asked, pressing soft kisses into the inside of his knees, and Cas nodded.

Dean straddled him, reaching behind to finger himself open, just rubbing themselves together languidly, until Cas' breathing began to hitch and his touches became more urgent.

"You want this?" Dean asked, pulling his fingers out and pushing gently at the vibrator. "You ready?"

"Yes," Cas gasped, scrabbling at Dean's hips.

Dean slicked lube onto Cas, then sank down slow, infinitesimal inch at a time.

"Yeah, Cas," he said, tilting his head. "God, I can feel it in you already." He reached back, turning the toy back on high and pushing it in deep, then jerked as he felt the vibration pick up in Cas' body.

"Oh, my God," he whispered, stilling himself when Cas was deep inside him. Cas pulled him down, kissing him hard, then thrust his hips up, and Dean let out a choked wail.

"Jesus fucking Christ, dude," he said between ragged breaths. "Not that I'm complaining, but think I've created a monster." The vibrations radiated through his body, and Cas was clearly in no better shape.

"Cas, baby," he growled. "So good, so good for me." He wrapped his hand around his cock, trying to hold off his pent-up orgasm, but Cas just shoved himself up harder.

"Dean," he said, gripping his hips. "Dean, this feels -- I'm -- again -- I…"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean groaned. "Do it, do it."

Cas yanked him down and slammed in hard, and at the electric heat of Cas coming inside him, Dean threw back his head and came with a cry, in hot spurts across Cas' belly.

"Jesus," Dean said, pulling off and dropping to the bed against Cas' side.

"Mm," Cas agreed, swiping vaguely at their skin with the sheet. "Good?" he asked tentatively, flipping over and wrapping his arm around Dean.

Dean stared at him, then snorted.

"Yeah, dude," he said, pressing his lips into his hair. "Good. One of your better ideas."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally added another chapter to this, thanks to a suggestion from S3XY_M3RM41D! Took me for-fuckin'-ever to finish it, for which I offer my heartfelt apologies.
> 
> Warning: this is basically 100% Sabriel pornography. I know that's not everybody's thing, so if you're not into it, feel free to skip this chapter -- since this has basically no plotline to speak of, it's not like you'll be missing anything vital to the story. :)
> 
> Rating: E

"Dude, are you _sure_ we shouldn't go back yet?"

"Sammy-boy, if you'd heard the sounds coming from their room, you would not want to be anywhere near that motel."

Sam shuddered. "Thank God I don't have angelic hearing," he muttered.

Gabriel grinned at him. "Anyway, is it _so_ bad just hanging out with me at a diner?" he teased.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. I just..." he trailed off, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I just wanted to be alone with you," he finally said, blushing slightly.

"Why, Sammy!" Gabriel said in mock horror. "Are you horny, young man?"

Sam blushed harder. "Listen, just because I'm neither a sixteen year old boy nor an archangel of infinite stamina doesn't call my virility into question," he declared.

"Also," Gabe said, "speaking of archangel, you _do_ realize that if you want privacy, I could take us so far away and long ago there wouldn't be any other people on the _planet_ , right?"

"Oh, God," Sam said with a shiver. "Yeah, I think I'd be happy with an empty motel room. Minus the dinosaurs. Can't you just, like, soundproof that shit or something?"

Gabriel looked at him, considering. "I've got a better idea," he announced. He snapped his fingers and disappeared, and Sam started.

"Gabe?" he said, looking around. "What the fuck, dude?"

Suddenly he felt nimble fingers at the waistband of his jeans, working at his belt, and he jumped so hard his knee slammed into the underside of the table.

"Gabe, what the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, trying to surreptitiously peer under the table. There was nobody there, but warm, undeniable hands had got his belt open and were now pulling at his zipper.

A smug laugh drifted up. "Archangel, remember?" he said, his voice deep and slightly muffled. "You think a little invisibility in the name of a public blowjob is anything hard? Unlike, you know, _something_ in the vicinity," he said, dragging his fingertips down Sam's thickening cock.

"Jesus Christ, Gabe, we can't," he gasped, his legs spreading despite himself. "We, you gotta -- oh _fuck_ ," he groaned, as Gabriel's mouth enveloped the tip.

The waitress chose that moment to bounce back over to the table. "Your friend take off?" she said brightly, with a slightly flirtatious gleam in her eye.

"Ah, no," Sam ground out, as Gabriel studiously licked down his length. "He, uh, he -- he's in the bathroom."

She eyed him speculatively. "You and him, you two, you know... together?"

Gabriel gave him a particularly vicious suck, and Sam choked. "Um, yeah. We -- we are."

She smiled at him. "New thing, huh? You seem a bit flustered."

"Yeah, uh -- really. Really new."

"Ah well," she said dramatically. "Hot ones are always taken." She refilled their coffees and wandered off.

"Dude," Sam grit out, fingers clenched on the edge of the table, "you gotta stop, you gotta -- you --" His voice dissolved into a groan as Gabriel swallowed him down, fingers stroking at his balls, then pulled off with an obscene pop.

"You want me to stop, Sam-o-mine?" came a low growl from under the table. "You sure?"

Sam fumbled until he could twist his fingers into the familiar shaggy hair, tangible if not visible. "Gonna kill you, Gabe," he mumbled in a choked voice.

"Gonna take that as a no, then," Gabriel announced, and reapplied his lips to Sam's cock.

"Oh God," Sam hissed, teeth clenched. He bucked his hips once, then yanked on Gabriel's hair. "Bathroom," he growled. "Now."

He fumbled with his zipper and finally just yanked his shirt down before standing up and making his way through the diner. He could sense Gabriel's presence behind him, but the waitress just gave him a questioning look.

"Everything OK?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, trying for nonchalance. "Uh, just checking on, on my -- on my boyfriend. I think he might have, uh, an allergy or something." He pushed open the bathroom door, and as soon as he slammed it closed and locked it Gabriel appeared in front of him, smirking.

"You are such an _asshole_ ," Sam growled, shoving Gabriel up against the sink.

"Yep," Gabe said with an unrepentant grin. "Seems to work for me."

Sam picked him up and set him on the edge of the sink, and was gratified to hear a tiny, bitten-down squeak from the archangel.

"Who's the horny teenager now?" Sam whispered, shoving his leg in between Gabriel's as he worked at his pants.

"Definitely not -- not teenager," Gabe gasped. "Horny, I'll -- I'll go with that. Oh, _God_ , Sam..." He reached up and pulled Sam's mouth to his.

Sam knew, of course, that Gabriel could have him pinned and helpless in the literal blink of an eye, and somehow that just made it even hotter when he let Sam manhandle him. Sam kissed him deep and thorough while tugging at their jeans, and finally gave in with a grunt of frustration.

"Just fucking _do your shit_ , Gabe," he mumbled, yanking at the waistband, and Gabriel grinned up at him. Instantly their clothes were in a heap on the floor, and Sam growled. He wrapped Gabriel's legs around his waist and locked his hands under his thighs, lifting him up and shoving him against the wall. He started working his fingers between Gabriel's legs, and Gabe moaned.

"Mind if I, uh, move things along?" Gabriel said into his ear, and Sam made a grunt of assent.

"Oh, fuck," Sam mumbled as he felt Gabriel open like liquid under his hands. "Fucking -- ruined me -- for anyone else, Gabe..."

"Best thing I've -- I've heard all day," Gabe said. He locked one arm around Sam's neck, reaching down behind himself with the other to guide Sam into him. "Oh, _fuck_ ," he gasped, arching his back, and his head fell against the tile wall.

"C-careful," Sam said, gripping him tighter. "Don't wanna -- fuck you into a concussion."

"Like nothing better than to see you try," Gabe said with a slightly hysterical snicker.

"You're fucking impossible," San growled, starting to thrust up roughly.

"If I'm -- oh, _God_ , Sammy -- if I'm impossible, then -- you're the one -- fucking impossible," Gabriel managed to get out.

"Jesus Christ," Sam said through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat slipping down his ribcage, "do you _ever_ shut up?"

Gabriel just wrapped his himself tighter around Sam, trying to move up and down to meet his thrusts. "You've been -- been known to, to make me, little -- little moose..."

"Fuck, Gabriel," Sam mumbled, letting his head drop onto the archangel's shoulder as he picked up the pace.

"Think that's what you -- you're do- -- oh _God_ ," he cried, as Sam began slamming into his sweet spot with every stroke.

"Not gonna drag this out, Gabe," Sam hissed, pushing him hard against the wall and shoving upwards as hard as he could.

"Nghh," Gabriel agreed breathlessly, digging his fingernails into Sam's back. "Oh, fuck, fuck, Sammy, Sam, _fuck_ \--"

His head cracked against the wall as he came, thick and dripping between their stomachs. Sam tried to grab at his head to cushion it, but the sounds coming from Gabriel combined with the clench of his ass around Sam's cock was too much and he went rigid, hips jerking as he came in hot spurts inside the angel.

"Jesus Christ," he said, his mouth muffled in Gabriel's neck. He tried to ease him off, but his legs turned abruptly to jelly and they found themselves sprawled in a naked, sated heap on the bathroom floor.

"Hope this diner sticks to its bathroom maintenance schedule," Gabriel mumbled, and Sam snorted weakly.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and they jumped.

"You _did_ put some sort of, you know, angelic silencer shit up, didn't you?" Sam said, fumbling for his jeans.

"Um," Gabriel said, looking anywhere but at Sam, and Sam stopped and stared at him.

"Oh, my God," he groaned, dropping his face into his hands, and a knock sounded again.

"Everything okay in there?" came the voice of the waitress through the door. She was clearly trying for a tone of concern, but amusement laced through her voice, and Gabe grinned.

"Sorry, 'm fine," he called, attempting and failing to sound sick and shaky. He snapped his fingers and he and Sam were clean and fully clothed. They scrambled to their feet and Gabriel opened the door.

The waitress was standing in the hallway, a tiny smirk playing at her mouth. She glanced between their unwrinkled clothes and the pristine bathroom, and her eyebrows rose slightly.

"So... allergy?" she said dubiously.

"Guess so," Gabriel agreed. "Apparently I just can't handle nuts." Sam choked, the waitress snorted, and Gabriel just smiled and wandered off.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean pushes, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like pulling teeth to write and I'm not sure why. I could see it in my head, and usually the words come fairly easy when it's there in my head, but damn, not this time. And since it was written in like 100ish word blips per night it may be kind of disjointed, but since it took so damn long I just wanted to get it up.
> 
> At any rate, here are some wings and silk ties in particular for [featherfluff](http://archiveofourown.org/users/featherfluff/pseuds/featherfluff), albeit quite belated, and if you find something worth art-ing in there it'd make my day. :)
> 
> Rating: E

"C'mon, Cas," Dean said, stroking his hands down Castiel's back. "You said it felt good..." 

Cas sighed, batting his hands away. "Dean, we don't yet know what Bobby is tracking out here, and transporting the two of us drains my energy. As much as I appreciate your affection for my wings, we cannot afford to indulge it at whim." 

"Can't you just bring them out here?" Dean mumbled, biting gently at the cord of muscle in Cas' throat, and Cas' breathing stuttered. "So fuckin' beautiful, Cas, I just wanna see them..." 

" _Dean_ ," he said again, pushing him away. "You know I -- I cannot risk m-manifesting them in this place." 

"Just for a _little_ while?" Dean wheedled, pressing his fingertips into the sensitive spots under his shoulder blades. Cas arched and groaned, then turned a glare onto Dean, his eyes hot and narrowed. 

Suddenly Dean felt crisp night air on his face, but Cas' hand covered his eyes, and his shirtless back was pressed against Cas' bare chest. The familiar buzzing began rolling into his belly, but before he felt the shuddering power of wings, Cas' hand pulled away, immediately replaced by soft silk wrapping around his eyes. 

" _Cas_ ," Dean whined, trying to turn himself around, but Cas held him firmly in place with one arm and deftly knotted the tie behind Dean's head with the other hand.

"My wings are not for you to toy with," he whispered, and then Dean found himself naked and shoved up against a birch tree. Its bark was cool and silky-rough on the skin of his back, and Cas twisted his wrists together behind the slender trunk, looping more fabric in and out, until Dean was bound against it. The low-hanging tendrils of a weeping willow dripped down over his left shoulder, mingling with the birch leaves. 

Cas kissed him once, slow and sweet, then broke away, even as Dean's body instinctively tried to chase his, jerking at his bonds.

All at once the buzzing turned electric, and Dean felt the breath disappear from his lungs. The air hummed, and Dean shivered in the telltale rush of wind as Cas unfurled his wings.

“Cas,” Dean murmured, inhaling deeply and trying to reach for him. “Cas, _please_...”

Cas shifted behind him, leaning against the trunk of the birch tree. He wrapped his hands around Dean’s hipbones, holding him still, and let the tips of his feathers trail down Dean’s arms and fan over his ribcage. Dean shuddered, and Cas reached up to twist his fingers in his hair, pulling his head to the side.  
He bit down hard, and Dean hissed. 

“This is what you wanted, Dean,” he whispered, stroking a feather behind his ear. “This is what you asked me for.”

“Want to see you,” Dean begged, twisting and jerking.

“No,” Cas said, simply. He knelt down, still behind the birch tree, and lay the end of his wings flat over Dean’s feet, just skittering over his skin. He moved slowly up his legs, and as he brushed over his thighs, Dean had his head thrown back, teeth clenched and breath stuttering.

Cas let his feathers drift between Dean’s legs, tracing over his groin, and then he stood up again, his hands still firm on skin. He reached up and twisted his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling his head to the side, and bit down hard on his exposed throat, then arched one wing over Dean’s shoulder, dragging along the blossoming bruise. Dean’s knees finally gave out and he sagged against the tree trunk, but Cas held him steady.

He circled back around to stand in front, close enough that Dean could feel the heat of his body but without touching. Slowly he began tracing random patterns on his skin with fingertips and fingernails, at the same time smoothing his wings in long, even strokes. Dean was so hard he was throbbing visibly, his cock leaving trails of pre-come as it jerked against his stomach.

“So hard for me,” Cas murmured, brushing his lips against Dean’s ear. “I wonder if I could make you come just like this, nothing inside you or touching your cock… Do you think I could, Dean?”

Dean just made a choked sound deep in his throat, struggling to press himself against Cas, but Cas just smiled, stepping back slightly.

“You begged me to bring my wings out,” he reminded him. “I’m only doing as you asked.”

He sank to his knees again, leaning in to brush his mouth over the head of Dean’s cock, letting the drops beading thickly on the tip smear across his lips. Dean tried to buck into his mouth, but Cas gripped his hip in one hand, holding him still. As he pressed his other hand between his legs, he slid his wings against Dean’s ass, spreading him apart.

With Cas’ grace slipping through his veins, Dean opened to him easily, Cas’ fingers meeting no resistance as he pushed them inside, still just mouthing softly at his cock.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, his head tilted back and muscles taut. The desperation in his voice made Cas’ cock ache, still trapped in his jeans. He pulled his fingers out and stood up, stripping off the last of his clothes, and finally pressed his body against Dean’s.

“Oh, God,” Dean moaned, and two tears slipped out from under the blindfold, leaving twin streaks on his cheeks.

Cas pulled back slightly. “Are -- are you okay?” he asked, wiping at the tracks with his thumbs.

Dean nodded feverishly, a blush creeping up his neck. “Need you, Cas,” he whispered, trying to chase Castiel’s body. “Need you so much, please…”

Cas let out a groan and leaned in to kiss him deeply. His own knees nearly went weak at the way his grace twined so perfectly through Dean’s soul.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, sliding his wings behind Dean and spreading them, so they cushioned his body against the tree bark. Dean turned his head to the side, nuzzling the feathers with his cheek, and Cas bit back a growl.

He reached down and hoisted Dean up, urging his legs around his waist, and Dean locked his ankles behind his back immediately. Even with Dean’s arms still immobilized, unable to help support himself, Cas barely registered his weight, manhandling him until his cock was pressed against Dean’s hole. He rubbed it in circles, not pushing in, dropping kisses and tiny bites from Dean’s ear down his jawline, and Dean arched his back, gasping.

“Cas,” he grit out, still jerking helplessly, “a-angel or not, if you -- if you don’t put your dick in my ass _right now_ , I -- I swear to --”

Cas cut him off with a kiss, sharp and dirty, and shoved Dean back hard against the tree, pinning him with his hips. He let his wings shift and ripple against Dean’s skin, and as Dean threw his head back, he shoved himself inside.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Dean cried. He gripped Cas’ waist tighter with his legs, trying to find leverage to grind down, but Cas just dug his fingers into Dean’s hips, holding him still as he thrust up harder.

“Oh God, Cas,” Dean choked out, finally giving up trying to meet his strokes and letting Cas hold him down and fuck him. “Cas, fuck, Cas, I’m dying, gotta be -- gotta be dying --”

Gritting his teeth, barely maintaining control of himself, Cas spread one wing further until the tip of it encircled the tree trunk, brushing against Dean’s hands. Dean opened his hands, grasping until he had his fingers buried in the feathers, tugging at them.

Cas’ hips jerked up hard, slamming into his prostate, and Dean howled, instinctively twisting and yanking at the feathers.

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas gasped, the pleasure-pain in his wings rippling through his body, ramping up every spark of sensation coursing through him. “Jesus -- _Jesus fucking Christ_ \--”

Dean finally lost the last shreds of control at the sound of profane words in the angel’s mouth and he arched back, his fingers scrabbling in feathers and tree bark and empty air, and he came with a long, guttural sob, in thick white ropes on smooth tanned skin and inky black feathers.

As Dean clenched around him, and hot come dripped down his sacred wings, Cas finally gave up holding back. He wrapped one hand in Dean’s hair and curled his free wing tighter, his head falling into the crook of Dean’s neck, and he followed almost instantly, his back rigid and hips stuttering as he ground his release into Dean.

Finally Cas slid down to the ground, barely coherent enough to lower Dean down with him. He rested his head against Dean’s chest, panting, and Dean dropped lazy kisses into his hair amid small happy noises.

“Cas,” he finally mumbled.

“Mm.”

“Could you, you know,” he said, jerking awkwardly to indicate his bound hands and blindfolded face.

“Mm-hmm,” Cas agreed, nuzzling into his neck with a sigh.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean said again, amusement threading through the sated thickness in his voice. Cas cracked one eye, finally registering the bonds still in place, and he sat up.

“I ought to just leave you like this,” he said, reaching back to pull at the ties. “Pressuring me to indulge your whims…”

Dean flushed. “I, uh,” he said, almost shy. “Was gonna apologize ‘bout that. Kinda douchey of me,” he admitted. “But Jesus, Cas, you don’t make it easy for a guy to be sorry.” He flexed his hands and blinked a few times as Cas pulled the silk away, then his eyes fell to Cas’ wings, still curled around him, and he gazed at them in open reverence.

“They’re so beautiful, Cas,” he said softly, finally reaching out a hand to stroke through the feathers. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Then he caught sight of the smears of come, drying lurid white on the blue-black.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, with something between a giggle and a groan. “I didn’t -- oh, God -- I came on your wings. I _came_ on your _wings_. Guess it’s good I’ve already been there-done that with the whole eternal damnation thing, or I’d be royally _fucked_.” He paused. “In, like, a way less fun way.”

Cas just shrugged, ruffling his wings, and settled back down, cuddled into Dean’s chest. “Well,” he admitted, pressing small kisses into all the skin he could reach, “I suppose I was asking for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sporadic updates with everything at the moment, y'all. Am currently off adventuring -- AKA desperately trying to get out of the American Midwest on my bicycle -- but I'm trying not to get grotesquely behind. <3


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Sabriel wings, suggested by [ennisjackgal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ennisjackgal/pseuds/ennisjackgal)! I wanted to make it different than Cas/Dean wings, and... this is what came out. I can't get more than a few minutes at a time to write these days and it is reflected in quality, I fear. :/
> 
> Rating: T

Sam was muttering in his sleep. His jaw was clenched, and as Gabriel leaned over, smoothing the hair away from his face, a light sheen of sweat shone on his forehead.

“Sammy?” he said softly, brushing away a drop sliding towards his left eye.

Sam shook his head, his eyes still screwed shut.

“I’m -- so sorry,” he whispered, rolling onto his side. “Oh God -- Jess --”

Gabriel’s heart clenched, and he ran a soothing hand down Sam’s back.

“It’s okay, little moose,” he said, pulling Sam close. “It’s okay. It isn’t your fault.”

Sam gave a full-body shudder, but his breathing eventually evened out. Gabriel stayed pressed up against him, stroking his hair and skin, humming quietly. He had just started to let his mind drift when Sam stiffened again.

“Dean,” he murmured, one hand groping aimlessly. “Dean?”

“Right next door, Sam-o-mine,” Gabriel assured him. “With Cassie, right next door.”

“No,” Sam mumbled, his eyes still shut tight. “No, no, couldn’t -- couldn’t find, couldn’t save -- can never…” he trailed off. “Dean?” he said again, his voice growing louder, more frantic. “ _Dean_!”

There was immediately a flurry of sounds from next door, then stomping footsteps and a banging at their door.

“Sammy?” Dean yelled. “Sammy, what the fuck is he doing to you?”

Gabriel couldn’t suppress an eye-roll, even as he flung open the door.

“Gabriel,” he snarled, “I swear I’ll --” then stopped short at the anxiety on the archangel’s face.

“Nightmares,” he said shortly, stepping aside.

“Bad?” Dean asked, staring at his brother, still asleep and breathing shallowly.

“It would seem so,” Gabe said.

Dean crossed the room and sat down on the bed. “Hey,” he said, shaking Sam gently. “Hey, asshole. Wake up.” He glared at Gabriel. “Couldn’t you have stopped it?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, giving back the glare in full force. “You really want me going into your brother’s head and cherry-picking through his dreams? Jesus, have we learned no lessons here?”

Dean scowled at him, then returned his attention to Sam. “Has he been having them a lot? Since, you know…” He made a vague gesture around the room, glancing over to include Cas who had appeared in the doorway.

Gabe shrugged in helpless frustration. “He doesn’t sleep well, as I’m sure you’re aware, and it’s hard to fault him for that. But not like this.”

A groan finally came from the bed, and Sam opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. He struggled to sit up, and Gabriel took a step towards the bed before pausing, glancing at Dean in a rare gesture of deference. Dean narrowed his eyes, then nodded, and Gabe settled onto the bed behind Sam, pulling him against his chest. A pang of relief knifed through his stomach when he caught Sam reciprocating Dean’s token grimace with an unmistakable bitch-face.

“So… nightmares again?” Dean asked carefully.

Sam grunted in assent. “Nothing new,” he rasped. “For either of us.”

“Yeah, but… my nightmares’ve never been…”

“Precognizant?” Sam finished.

“Uh. Yeah. That.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s okay, Dean. Just normal, run-of-the-mill nightmares.” He shivered.

“That’s probably a stretch,” Dean muttered. “You wanna, y’know, talk about it?”

“I really don’t.” Dean eyed him, and he sighed. “Seriously, Dean, it’s nothing new. Jess in the fire. You in hell. Couldn’t fucking save either of you. You know, typical garden-variety dreams,” he said bitterly.

“For the Winchesters,” Dean agreed. “You okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry to wake you guys.”

“‘m used to it,” Dean said, punching him lightly on the shin. “Bitch.”

Sam aimed a kick in his direction, which Dean dodged easily, heading for the door. “Get the fuck out, jerk,” he called. “And, uh… thanks.”

Cas paused in the doorway, looking at Sam searchingly for a moment, but appeared satisfied. “I hope you sleep better, Sam. Good night, Gabriel.”

“Night, Cassie,” Gabriel called. “Better not wake us up with any of your man-love.” Cas rolled his eyes and disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Sam sighed, settling back against Gabriel. His eyes drifted closed, but he kept tapping absently on Gabriel’s legs.

“Sammy?” Gabriel said after a few minutes.

“Mm?”

Gabe paused. “You weren’t lying to Dean, of course. But… is there anything you weren’t saying?”

Sam was silent for a few minutes. “Sort of,” he said finally. “Not really -- nothing Dean needed to know; they really are just plain old fucking nightmares. But… I know why they’re getting worse. It’s… it’s because of you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel flinched, and Sam could feel the hurt and surprise rolling off him in unfamiliar waves.

“It’s… my fault?” he said in a whisper.

“No,” Sam said immediately, turning around and looping his arms around the Gabriel’s neck. “It isn’t your fault, Gabe. It’s…” 

He turned his head, avoiding the angel’s golden gaze, but Gabriel just stroked his hair.

“Everyone I care about dies, Gabe,” he said. “I know that’s part of hunter life, but I mean _everyone_. Henry VIII’s got nothin’ on me,” he continued with a humorless laugh. "And I’ve seen Dean and Cas die so many times, I’m just waiting for the time they don’t come back.”

“Sam…” Gabriel said, but Sam cut him off.

“It’s not -- I used to have these dreams. Prescient. I -- I saw Jess die, saw her up there on the ceiling, and I still couldn’t save her, couldn’t save anybody. I don’t have ‘em anymore, but every time I close my eyes, I’m -- I’m afraid I’m gonna see _you_ there, Gabe, on fire or, or -- or burnt out on the floor…”

He buried his face in Gabriel’s neck. “Doesn’t make for very good dreams,” he said, muffled.

He let out a shuddering sigh, and waited for some reassuring declaration from the archangel, or at least a tender joke. Instead there was just silence, and then something warm and soft encircled his body.

“Gabe?” he murmured uncertainly, blinking.

“Mm,” Gabriel replied. He manhandled Sam until his huge frame was curled effortlessly in his lap, stroking feathers like sunlight down his back.

“Are… these are your wings?” he said, awe threaded through his voice.

Gabriel was quiet for a minute, just tracing soothing patterns on skin.

“Kind of,” he finally said. “Not really. A human adaptation. If you ever see my true wings, the wings of an archangel…” He trailed off, then sighed, tugging Sam closer. “I wish I could assure you of my immortality, little moose,” he said, yanking on Sam’s hair. “And if it were anyone else but you two, I would. But you Winchester assholes have everything that could kill me in your trajectory, and I’m in this for the ride, Sam-o-mine, as long as you’ll have me.”

Sam stared into his amber eyes, fear and uncertainty chasing each other, until his head began to droop, lulled by the hypnotic rhythm of Gabriel’s wings.

“Go to sleep, Sammy,” Gabe whispered, letting the spun-gold of his wings melt into Sam’s hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise, little moose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For the record, this isn't foreshadowing any future sudden plotty-ness. Any angst in this story is self-contained in its chapter.)


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laundry night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo this chapter took _forever_ to write and I totally didn't intend for it to get as porny as it did. so either you're welcome or I'm sorry.
> 
> also totally unedited, so feel free to nitpick anything you catch!
> 
> Rating: E

Dean pulled up in front of a grim 24-hour laundromat sometime in the pre-dawn chill. Sickly yellow light filtered through its windows, the kind of pale, watery yellow unique to them, like the stark fluorescence of hospitals, or the rubber smell endemic to elementary school gyms.

Castiel leaned forward in the passenger seat, wrinkling his nose.

“Dean, I don’t --”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted with fond exasperation. “I told you, buddy. We been here longer’n we thought and our clothes need washing outside a motel sink. And Sammy beat me two outta three fair’n square, so here we are.”

“You know, Dean, if you didn’t always --”

“Yeah, OK, scissors is the long game, OK?” he grumbled. “Anyway.”

“But my clothes do not need cleaning, as it is.”

Dean hauled the bag of laundry out of the car, jerking his chin for Cas to follow.

“I know they don’t, Cas. And if you don’t wanna wash ‘em you don’t have to. But it’s sorta like… sleep, and showers. Even we humans -- we don’t always need ‘em but it still feels better. You wanna try?”

Cas plucked at his trench coat, then followed Dean in, shrugging.

“Now,” Dean said, opening a washer lid and beginning to toss clothes in, “normally you’d do light colors and dark colors, but these are just jeans and tshirts, an’ they’ve been washed so much the colors won’t -- hey, whoa there, buddy, what’re you doin’?”

Cas paused in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, trench coat already puddled on the floor.

“You suggested I wash my clothes,” he said, looking at Dean in confusion.

“Yeah, but you can’t just get nekkid in a laundromat,” Dean said. “I mean, not that _I’d_ complain, but…”

“I don’t own any other clothes,” Cas pointed out. “How else would I wash them?”

Dean opened his mouth, then paused, looking sheepish. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “I should’ve given you some sweats or somethin’.” He looked around the room, empty but for a lone old woman nodding over a crossword puzzle. “Y’know what, fuck it,” he sighed. “Leave your boxers on -- even in fuckin’ Florida doin’ laundry buck-naked might get us in trouble -- but otherwise I doubt anyone’ll care. Hell, not so sure that lady’s even gonna wake _up_ , let alone chase us out with her cane.”

Cas frowned at him. “That’s unkind, Dean. Her appearance is fragile, but inside she’s in quite excellent health.”

Dean held up his hands. “OK, OK. You’d think in our line of work I’d learn to stop underestimating people.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “She, uh… _is_ a person, right?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said, rolling his eyes. “I assure you she is human.”

A creaky voice piped up from the corner. "Is that a flirtation, young man?"

They jumped, and Dean turned red and began to stammer, but Cas just blinked.

"My apologies," he said, unfazed.

She waved a gnarled hand. "I'm happy for the company. And don't stop undressin’ on my account."

Cas nodded, going back to his shirt buttons, but Dean grabbed his hand.

"Dude," he said. "No gettin' naked in public."

Cas stared at him in confusion. "But you had just said --"

"Not when there's _other people_ ," Dean hissed.

"Young man,” the old lady said, “I have three children, seven grandchildren and one great-grandbaby. My eyes ain't gonna bleed at a man's chest." Dean glowered, and she cackled. “Possessive,” she said, winking at Cas. “Boy’s a keeper.”

Before Dean could open his mouth her dryer dinged, and she stood up, hobbling over to it and bending down with a grunt. Dean sighed, then got up and crossed over to her.

“Can I help?” he offered, gesturing to the pile of clothes.

She glanced up at him. “You’re just tryin’ to get your boyfriend alone,” she accused with a grin.

He shrugged. “Do you _blame_ me?” he said, gesturing at Cas, still standing at the washers with his shirt half-open.

“Can’t say I do,” she snorted, folding each item as Dean pulled them out of the dryer. “Thank you, young man,” she said as she tucked the last pair of socks away and hefted the basket with surprising strength. “I appreciate the help, and the company.”

“And the eye-candy,” he grumbled without heat, and she laughed. He hesitated. “You OK gettin’ home? At this hour?” He gestured at the dark parking lot, still untouched by sunrise.

“I live just upstairs,” she said, waving dismissively. “So don’t you boys get _too_ rowdy.”

“Heaven forbid,” he said with a wink. “Have a good night, ma’am.”

“You boys too,” she nodded, returning the wink. She waved at Cas and tottered off, and Dean wandered back over.

“So,” he said, reaching up to toy with Cas’ shirt buttons. “Where were we again? Somethin’ ‘bout you gettin’ naked?”

“Are we… adequately alone?” Cas asked, and Dean grinned.

“ _Children, behave_ ,” he sang. “ _That’s what they say when we’re together, and watch how you play…_ ”

Cas’ brow furrowed. “Not that I don’t appreciate your singing, Dean, but I don’t --”

“ _They don’t understand_ ,” Dean agreed with a snort. “ _And so we’re runnin’ just as fast as we can, holdin’ onto one another’s hand, tryin’ to get away into the night…_ ”

He pushed Cas up against the washing machine until he was sitting on the lid, with Dean situated neatly between his legs, and he dropped his voice lower, directly into the angel’s ear.

“ _And then you put your arms around me as we tumble to the ground and then you say, I think we’re alone now…_ ” he sang, unbuttoning Cas’ shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, then reaching for the waistband of his slacks.

Cas’ eyes had gone dark, and he was biting his lower lip. Dean grinned, dropping small kisses onto his neck, then tugged at his pants, and Cas shifted so Dean could pull them over his hips and drop them to the floor before returning his attention to Cas’ mouth.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas groaned, tilting his head back, then pushed him away slightly. “Dean -- it’s my understand that clothes go -- go _in_ the washing machine, not -- not on the floor…”

“Mmph,” Dean agreed, chasing Cas’ mouth, then pulled back, looking sheepish. “Well, you’re _distracting_ ,” he complained. “No one should look so fuckin’ hot in a _laundromat_.” He picked up Cas’ clothes and threw them in the washer with the rest, then closed the lid and began fumbling for quarters.

“Aren’t you going to wash _your_ clothes?” Cas asked innocently, but Dean caught the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Why, Cas, you tryin’ to get me naked here?” he asked in mock horror. “I already got clothes in the wash after all.”

Cas shrugged. “It seems only practical to wash them all,” he pointed out reasonably.

“That’s true,” Dean said gravely. “Wouldn’t want to waste a laundry trip.” He stepped back and began peeling off his t-shirt slowly, then kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt. Cas’ breathing had already gone slightly unsteady, so he turned around and bent over, wiggling his hips as he pulled off his jeans. He dropped them into the machine and shut the lid, and as soon as it came to life Cas had him shoved back against it with a knee pressed between his legs and a hard length against his thigh.

“Fuck, Cas,” he groaned as his hips jerked traitorously. “Weren’t we tryin’ to _not_ get arrested?”

“I have faith in our ability to outwit local law enforcement,” Cas growled, then attached his mouth to Dean’s neck, brushing a nipple with his fingers, and Dean whined. The machine rumbled against his back and his ass, and he arched up.

“Too bad you don’t have your little toy,” Dean mumbled weakly, wrapping his arms around Cas’ shoulders. “Bet that’d be a hit on these things.”

Cas pulled back, giving him a dark, considering look, and before Dean could backpedal there was a telltale shuddering in the air before Cas was back between his legs and a vibrator bouncing comically on the machine.

“Cas,” he gasped, as Cas ground against him, “Cas, we can’t --” He glanced out the window. They were in a back corner of the laundromat, fairly hidden from anyone who happened to walk by, not that there was any traffic in the parking lot at 4:00 in the fucking morning, but --

“I’ll be very careful,” Cas murmured, slipping his hand down the back of Dean’s boxers. “No one will know.”

Dean tried to formulate a protest, but between the mouth skating across his collarbone, the knee pressing insistently against his dick and the slick finger dragging across his hole, his coherent thoughts were tumbling out the dirty window.

Cas worked him open slowly, and Dean hazily suspected he was using his angelic cheat-mode, given the apparent lack of lube, but before he could marshall any words Cas had snuck the toy under the fabric of his boxers and was nudging it against him.

“Cas, baby,” Dean choked out as it began to press into him, “f’you got any plans of fuckin’ me I -- I don’t know if this is -- is a great idea…”

“That’s all right,” Cas said in his fucking unflappable voice. “I love to see you like this.”

He pushed it in all the way in one smooth shove, and Dean cried out, his fingernails scrabbling across Cas’ back. Cas ran his hands over his skin in soothing circles.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, raw reverence in his tone. “So perfect, Dean. I waited thousands of years for you, thousands and thousands, and I’d wait thousands more… To have you like this, to have _you_...”

Dean’s breathing settled slowly. “OK,” he finally said unsteadily, gasping out a laugh. “OK, ‘m good.” He eyed Cas with a mixture of lust and wariness. “What are you --”

He choked as Cas turned the vibrator on, only to the lowest setting, then picked him up effortlessly and set him on the whirring washing machine.

“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, as it jostled the toy inside him. “Cas, I can’t…”

Cas kissed him hard, dragging his hand gently over Dean’s cock through the cotton, then pulled away, crossing to one of the plastic chairs a few feet away.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean whined, and tried to follow him, but he stopped with a groan as his movements shoved the toy deeper and it throbbed on his prostate, aided by the irregular thumping of the washer.

“Don’t move,” Cas said, spreading his legs and reaching into his own boxers. Dean started to mirror his actions but Cas stopped him with a look. “No,” he said, calm but firm. “I want to watch you. Don’t worry, if anyone looks in, they’ll only see me, jerking off to you… Do you like that, Dean?”

Dean let out an embarrassing mewl, his hands clenched on his thighs. “Didn’t know laundry was a fucking kink for you,” he muttered.

To his surprise, Cas snorted a breathless laugh. “My only ‘kink’, as you say, is _you_ , Dean Winchester,” he said, his hand still moving in his boxers. “To see what this does to you… for you to see what it does to me.”

Dean had nearly gathered himself enough for a snarky retort when the machine switched into the spin cycle, accelerating its beat against the toy in his ass, and his words dissolved into a long growl. A bead of sweat dripped down his ribcage, and he tipped his head back.

“Please, Cas,” he begged, and the angel closed his eyes briefly, jerking himself faster.

“Can you come like this, Dean?” he asked, half-lidded. “Can you come for me like this?”

Dean locked eyes with him, and seeing the angel’s self-control begin to crumble nearly pushed him over the edge. “Yeah, Cas,” he whispered, a blush rising into his face. “Yeah, I -- _fuck_ \-- I, I --”

Cas moaned, and shifted to push his boxers down his thighs. Dean swallowed audibly as his cock bounced against his stomach before Cas took it back in hand, red and glistening.

A scattering of tiny red half-moons were beginning to appear on Dean’s legs as he sank his nails into his skin.

“Would you like to see me come for you, Dean?” Cas whispered. “Or would you like to come for me first?”

“Oh, fuck, do it, Cas,” Dean choked out. “So gorgeous, so perfect, love you, _love_ \--”

Cas snarled, and within seconds his body went rigid, coming in thick spurts over his hand and onto his stomach, eyes still on Dean’s.

“So good,” he whispered, stroking himself slowly as he came down. “So good. Come for me, Dean… _please_ …”

Dean dug his fingers in hard and threw back his head soundlessly, and a dark wet stain spread over his boxers. He slumped over, twitching, and then the machine gave a last loud _thunk_ and spun to a halt.

“Thank God,” Dean muttered, still jerking bonelessly as the toy kept whirring inside him. “Nice timing. Can, um -- can you help -- fuck, please --”

Cas looked up at his obvious discomfort in hazy confusion, then pulled up his boxers, grimacing, and crossed over to pull Dean off the washing machine, holding him up when his knees buckled slightly. He reached back and turned off the vibrator, smiling at Dean’s sigh of relief, then pulled it gently out, cleaning it off with a flick of his wrist as he tossed it onto their bag.

“Christ, angel,” Dean murmured, pressing his face into Cas’ shoulder. “Gonna have to do laundry with you more often.”

“Well,” Cas hummed thoughtfully, dragging his fingers through Dean’s hair. “There is still the dryer.”

Dean’s head jerked up, wide-eyed, until he caught the smile quirking at Cas’ lips, then shook his head.

“Fuckin’ angelic sense of humor,” he mumbled, pulling Cas back against him. “Worst timing ever.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorks being dorks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lazy and unedited, but I wanted to get a chapter up :/ tell me what you think, you delightful creatures.
> 
> Rating: T

Dean leaned against the pool table, jabbing the cue ball and sending its target spinning off to the other side of the table. He scowled, taking a long drink of his beer.

"Dean," Cas said, appearing at his side with a frown, "how did you miss that? I know you --"

Before he could finish, Gabriel seized his wrist and dragged him off to the bar. Dean met Sam's eyes across the table, and they burst out laughing.

"Dude," Sam said in a low voice, coming across the table to take his next shot, "I like Cas almost as much as you do -- OK, well, _almost_ -almost as much as you do -- but you gotta admit, he's not so good for subtle pool hustling."

"Nah," Dean agreed, taking a messy shot at the four ball. "Bet Gabe'll help, though."

"Seriously, Dean?" Sam said, shaking his head. "I mean, not that we're paragons of morality to begin with, but archangelic hustling?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, we _are_ in a place called Shark's Lounge. And we are Winchesters."

\--

Several hours later they slipped out of the bar with their wallets nicely lined and fewer bruises than a night of hustling usually incurred. 

Dean and Sam had moderate success with their usual game, but Gabriel had commandeered an empty table. Waving some bright pink drink with an umbrella in it and feigning grandiose inebriation, he began loudly proclaiming he could sink any shot anybody told him to. Soon a crowd had gathered, tossing ten and twenty-dollar bills on the table, clapping and cheering as Gabriel sank more and more ridiculous shots with his usual charisma. Even the bartender sent over a couple free drinks in appreciation for the enthusiastic business.

"Damn, dude," Dean declared, throwing an arm over Gabriel's shoulder, "gotta take you out for our nights of dirty pool more often."

Gabe threw him a smug smirk. "Hel- _lo_?" he said, gesturing at his face. "Trickster?"

Dean laughed and shoved him away. "Yeah, can't deny, kinda prefer _this_ brand of your tricks than a few others we've seen."

"Well, you know," Gabe said amiably. "Gotta switch it up a bit." The other three rolled their eyes, but Gabriel's grin just grew wider. "And in exchange for my services, I demand we get rooms at an actual decent motel for a night or two."

"Gabe," Sam said with a sigh, "we really don't need --"

"I know we don't need," Gabriel interrupted. "But if you guys -- inexplicably, I might add -- refuse to let me blink us off to the French Riviera or Rio for a _real_ vacation, let me at _least_ have a beachfront view. And preferably a waterslide."

Sam looked unconvinced, but Dean's face had brightened up. "And hey, maybe I can finally teach Cas how to swim. Kinda got distracted last time," he said, slipping his hand under the hem of Cas' shirt and pulling him closer, and Sam made a gagging sound.

"You don't know how to swim, Cassie?" Gabe said curiously.

Cas shrugged. "I never had occasion," he said. "And as I doubt I am physiologically capable of drowning, it never seemed to be of import." He paused. "However, attempting intercourse in a public pool seems far less hygienic than in the ocean," he added, then scowled as Dean, Sam and Gabriel burst out laughing.

"Cas, baby," Dean said, giving him a reassuring squeeze, "I may not have many standards when it comes to sex, but even I don't wanna fuck in a Florida motel pool." He shuddered. "Probably wouldn't even wanna get _in_ it if I thought too hard."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Can't you guys, like, cleanse the waters or something angelic like that?"

"Why, Sammy," Gabe said in mock horror, "are you saying you _do_ want to fuck in the pool? 'Cause if so --"

"Jesus Christ," Sam groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Just don't wanna get an STD without even having the ST part."

"Don't worry, Sammy-boy," Gabriel assured him, "I'll keep the creepy-crawlies off you," and Sam stuck his tongue out at him.

\--

They argued over hotels as they gathered their bags, taking turns browsing the laptop. ("You _do_ realize," Gabe grumbled, "that I could have us _and_ our bags in nice empty rooms with a snap of my fingers." " _Inconspicuous_ , Gabe," Sam reminded him.)

Dean put his foot down at getting oceanfront rooms at the massive resort on the boardwalk.

"I am _not_ spending that much money on a fuckin' motel room, dude," he said. 

"Dean, it's not even _our money_ ," Sam pointed out. "Unless you're worried about overspending on the dime of, uh… 'Louis McCormick'," he said, rifling through the credit cards in his wallet. "Or 'Thomas Wilson'."

"Don't care, man, that's just _wrong_. It's the principle." 

Gabriel pouted but didn't push it.

"What about this?" Cas called, squinting at the screen. "I believe it's slightly farther away, but it has a pool, and a waterslide, and something called a 'lazy river'… uh, 'Dennis from Kentucky' appears to have given it five stars?"

Dean snorted, but perked up at the mention of a lazy river. "Not sure what that is," he said, "but sounds like it's up my alley." He tossed a final t-shirt into his duffel and zipped it, then came over to look at the screen. "The Cove," he read. "How much is it?"

"I don't know," Cas said. "How can you tell?"

Dean sighed and shook his head, and Cas frowned at him. He pulled the laptop over to him, dropping an apologetic kiss on the angel's head.

"Here, watch," he said. "S'pretty much the same for all motels, y'should know how to book a room."

"I thought you just went to the front desk," Cas asked in confusion.

"Usually we do, yeah, 'cause we never really know where we're gonna be," Dean said, putting in the dates. "But sometimes you get a better rate if you do it online, if you can. Plus then you don't have to worry if there's anythin' available." He clicked on the Check Availability button. "$60, really? For a _room_?"

He glanced over at Sam, who shrugged. "This place was $35, Dean. Does it really matter for a night or two?"

Dean made a face, but his face lit up when he clicked over to the photo gallery. "Dude," he said, clicking over the pictures of the oceanfront pool. "This is like a kid's wet dream. I'm _sold_. Holy shit, that waterslide is _two stories_?"

"Someday we'll get you to a _real_ waterpark, Dean-o," Gabriel declared, but he came over to check it out. "OK, that does look pretty fun, for a hotel pool," he admitted. "How is that only $60?"

" _Only_ \--" Dean spluttered, but Sam interrupted.

"It's kind of similar to Vegas, but like... on a smaller scale," he said. "Supply and demand, for one thing. The supply is saturated, so it's not worth spiking the price too much for better amenities. And they want you to have money to spend, while you're here."

"Didn't know you were an econ professor," Dean muttered, earning a pillow chucked at his head.

Finally they booked two rooms in the name of the unfortunate Mr. McCormick, tossed their bags in the Impala and hit the road.

"Can't believe you make the _angels_ sit in the _back_ ," Gabriel sulked.

"Nobody drives Baby but me," Dean said.

"Or me about once every five years," Sam added. "And I'm like a foot taller than you, Gabe. Suck it up."

"Oh, I plan to," Gabe returned, accompanied by a rare snort of laughter from Castiel.

Finally they got checked in, this time getting rooms a safe, out-of-hearing-range distance from each other, with an agreement to meet back out on the pool deck despite the late hour.

Dean pushed open the door to their room, looking around dubiously. It was slightly more spacious, and the television looked as though it had actually been made in the 21st century, but otherwise identical to most other standard motel rooms across America.

"S'nice enough, I guess," Dean grumbled. "Still don't see why --"

He stopped as Cas drew the curtains open, revealing huge windows overlooking the Atlantic. The ocean stretched out in front of them, dark and endless, with stars scattered across the blue-black sky. Below them the pool shone neon aqua, bright and garish and somehow comforting, in contrast to the infinite sea.

"Oh," Dean said softly.

Cas twitched the windows open, and instantly the parabolic roar of the ocean filtered into the room, bringing with it a smell of salt and honeysuckle.

Dean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the angel, staring out over the sand.

Suddenly a shriek came from the deck, and they looked down in time to see the small but distinct figure of Gabriel taking a running leap off of the concrete and cannonballing into the pool four floors below them.

"Jesus _Christ_!" floated Sam's voice, and squinting, they could make out Sam's gangling form, still fully dressed and dripping.

Dean met Cas' eyes in the window reflection and burst out laughing.

"We should probably go join 'em before I decide to just keep you here all night," Dean said, smoothing his hands over Cas' ribs.

"That would be… acceptable," Cas murmured, tilting his head back.

Dean growled, then took a step back. "Later," he promised, tugging gently at Cas' hair. "Kinda embarrassed to admit it, but that _does_ look pretty fun."

"Enjoyment should not be embarrassing," Cas said firmly. "Is, uh, the same attire appropriate as in the ocean?"

"S'fine," Dean assured him. "I mean, maybe not if it were like, the middle of the day, but s'fine now."

Cas nodded and began stripping down to his boxers. Dean couldn't resist ogling him for a moment, then turned away to do the same.

Finally Dean grabbed the room key and snagged a couple spare towels from the bathroom, and they padded out to the elevator.

On the deck Sam had finally tossed his wet clothes aside, but he was still standing on the edge of the pool with an expression of amused exasperation, and Gabriel was nowhere in sight.

"Where --?" Dean began, but at that moment Gabriel shot spinning out of waterslide tubes snaking up to the second floor and splashed into the pool. He emerged, grinning, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Cassie! Dean-o!" he exclaimed. "C'mon, help me drag Sam-moose onto the slide."

"Think I'm more of a lazy river person than a two-story-drop person," Dean mumbled, but he let himself be led along. They got to the stairs, and Gabriel immediately scampered back up. Dean, Sam and Cas exchanged glances, then shrugged and began climbing.

Near the top the stairs diverged, leading to two separate tubes; Cas and Dean went to the left, and Sam followed Gabe to the right one.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, standing at the top of a waterslide in Florida, flanked by an archangel and a seraph -- and instantly cracked up laughing.

Gabriel stared between them, then glanced over at Castiel, catching his eye. He tilted his head at the brothers and mimed shoving Sam, and to his surprise a small smile spread over Cas' face.

Gabriel lifted three fingers, wiggling them, then lowered one, and Cas nodded. He put down his middle finger, and then as soon as he put down the last he and Cas shoved Sam and Dean down the slides, their indignant yelps echoing back through them. Cas dissolved into the first open, unrestrained laughter Gabriel had heard from him over their long, long lives.

"He's good for you, Cassie," Gabriel admitted as he got his breath back.

"I'm sure many in Heaven would disagree," Cas said, standing up. "But I believe he is. And Sam… he's good for you as well." He paused. "I'm happy you're here, brother," he said.

"You too, little bro," Gabriel said, giving him an honest, affectionate smile. "Race you down?"

Cas cocked his head. "I don't understand how you --" but Gabriel had already launched himself down the tube again, and Cas sighed. He clambered in hesitantly, then let go, and found himself whooshing down the slide before tumbling into the water.

Dean doubled over laughing, watching the unflappable angel spinning and flailing into the pool. He waded over, hauling Cas upright.

"Y'all right, little angel?" he said, steadying him.

Cas took a deep, gasping breath, and concern began to snake through Dean's stomach until Cas wiped the hair out of his and stood up, the expression on his face like the one Dean first saw when he was somersaulting through the ocean.

"Yes, Dean," he said, straightening up. "I enjoyed that very much."

They stared at each other for a long moment. The light from the moon and the pool and the hotel flickered over skin, and Dean distantly imagined grinding against Cas in rhythm with the waves -- but then a gush of chlorinated water broke over his face and he sputtered, wiping his eyes.

"Settle down, Dean-o," Gabriel said, grinning. "You kids can go back to your room soon, but I demand a game of chicken, and I call your moose of a brother."

He ducked down and swam over to Sam, then hoisted himself onto his shoulders in one fluid motion.

"Jesus, Gabe!" Sam yelped, floundering in the waist-deep water before finding his balance.

Dean eyed Cas, then put his hands on his shoulders.

"Duck a little," he instructed, then hopped onto Cas, locking his legs behind his back.

"Dean, I --" Cas spluttered, staggering, and Dean wrapped his arms around the angel's neck.

"S'okay," Dean said, smoothing the hair out of his eyes as Cas steadied himself.

Sam chose that moment to launch himself and Gabriel at them, and Dean shrieked, but Cas dodged away, ducking them both underwater and emerging to see Sam and Gabe nearly crash into the edge of the slide.

"Cas," Dean gasped, as Sam and Gabe teetered and then toppled into the water, "don't ever change."


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter of Sabriel-centric fluff for Sabriel Sunday. 
> 
> AKA I'm tired of looking at this stupid chapter so fuck it.
> 
> Rating: T

Sam hoisted himself easily to the edge of the pool, his long legs dangling in the cool water, and looked around with a soft smile. Dean was patiently teaching Cas basic swimming strokes in the shallow end, and Cas had given up protesting in favor of allowing Dean to manhandle his limbs into position and then mimicking his movements.

Gabriel, meanwhile, was _frolicking_. He'd discovered a kids' water playground tucked away behind the slides, and was engaged in an inexplicably intricate dance as he leapt between fountains. The garish colors and the lurid neon lining the beachfront motels were muted in the moonlight, and the hiss and crash of the waves played endlessly in the background.

"All right," Gabriel finally called, "enough swim lessons for Cassie. Lazy river time?"

Dean snorted, but he helped Cas back upright. "Dude, it's like a twenty-foot circle. Not much of a _river_."

"Well, it's a hotel pool, not Wet n' Wild," Gabriel pointed out, then paused. "Though that could be an adventure for another day."

"Oh God," Sam said with an exaggerated shudder. "If you think I'm letting you and Dean loose together in a place with children…"

"Uh, remember that time _I raised you_?" Dean said. "Pretty sure if _anyone_ here has kid-cred, s'me."

Sam opened his mouth, then shut it with a click. "Fair," he admitted. "Just please don't ever call me kid-cred."

They clambered out of the water and wandered over to the small loop, tiny leaves floating along the unseen current.

"I do not understand what makes a river _lazy_ ," Cas said, looking around curiously.

"Hol' on," Dean said. He circled around to the other side, feet slapping softly on the wet concrete, then let out a triumphant yelp from the shadows. "Here y'go," he called, heaving an armful of inner tubes onto the deck and kicking them into the water. "Hey, s'like that time we snuck into some school trip at that river down in Arkansas!"

"Hopefully with fewer leeches," Sam grumbled, but he waded into the water and caught the first tube that floated by, folding himself awkwardly across the top. Gabriel, of course, took a running leap from across the concrete, landing neatly on the next one and spinning in gentle circles behind Sam.

Cas was still standing at the entry steps, frowning uncertainly at the shimmering surface.

"Ready, angel?" Dean said, coming to stand behind him. He planted a small kiss on Cas' neck, ignoring the chlorine tang.

"I suppose so," Cas said, toeing at the water even as he leaned back into Dean's touch. "Human customs remain mysterious to me."

Dean snorted. "Human customs remain mysterious to humans too, dude. But trust me, this is one've the good ones." He stepped around Cas and into the water, reaching out to grab one of the empty tubes. "Here, I'll hold it for you. Just kinda... climb on top. No way to do it gracefully."

Cas eyed it dubiously, but in the next moment Dean was eating his words as Cas slid his body sinuously onto the tube. Dean watched him settle himself, his eyes tracking the way the light from the moon and pool illumination flickered on his skin, then pushed him gently down the river.

He grabbed the last free one and hauled himself onto it, then paddled his hands awkwardly with the current until he caught up to Cas.

"Good?" he asked, catching one of Cas' hands trailing in the water.

"Mm," Cas said, stretching languidly. "This is... nice." His eyes were closed and an unfamiliar smile curled on his lips, soft and easy, even as they jounced against the sides of the pool.

"Y'know," Gabriel's voice floated over the water, "this _is_ nice and all, but I could just give the current a little push, make this into a _real_ ride..."

" _Gabe_ ," Sam called in amused exasperation, "pretty sure someone'd notice if their lazy river turned into a raging rapids. Not even sure if we're supposed to be out here at this hour."

"You never let me have any fun, Sammy-boy," Gabriel said with an audible pout.

"That's not what you said when I --"

"If you finish that sentence I am supergluing your mouth shut," Dean interrupted loudly. "Jesus."

"Afraid I might take issue with that, Dean-o," Gabriel said cheerfully, and Dean groaned.

"God, revenge is sweet," Sam said with a satisfied sigh. He leaned back, then gave a yelp of laughter as Gabriel sent him spinning in circles along the current.

"Anyway," Gabriel said, grabbing onto the handle of Sam's inner tube as he caught up, "don't think Dean's complaining too much at the moment."

Sam glanced over automatically, then flinched. Dean had flipped over and somehow managed to flop himself halfway on his own tube and half onto Cas', his mouth attached to Cas' neck, and Sam chose not to think about where his hand appeared to be traveling.

"Uh, I'd tell you guys to get a room," he yelled, "but you kind of _have one_. Could, y'know, _use_ it."

They broke apart guiltily, then Dean gave Sam an unrepentant grin. "Always were the smart one, Sammy," he said, then turned to the angel. "Whatcha think, Cas? Ready to go in?"

Cas blinked, the unearthly light shimmering in his huge blue eyes, then reached out and touched Dean's forehead, and Sam and Gabriel were alone.

Sam snorted. "Subtlety's a shared trait among the angels then," he said, and Gabriel laughed.

"In case you haven't noticed, most of us aren't even good at the virtues we _are_ supposed to have," he said without opening his eyes.

"S'been brought to my attention," Sam agreed, reaching out to catch Gabriel's hand.

He'd half-expected Gabriel to climb into his lap as soon as Dean and Cas had disappeared, but Gabe just stroked his fingers lazily, trailing his toes in the water.

"I like this," Gabriel said at last, twisting their hands together. "Y'guys don't know -- and I wish I could explain -- but what it feels like to discover... physical pleasure. Heaven's, y'know, Heaven... but it's not like this."

"You do miss it," Sam said before he could stop himself, and he cringed, but Gabriel was quiet.

"A'course I miss it," he finally said. "Even angels have homes and family. Or had," he amended. "Most of my brothers are dicks, and my dad's on par with yours, but..." He paused, tilting his head back until his hair drifted in the pool.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He shoved himself backwards until his head was level with Gabe's, the water a soothing sloosh in their ears. "You always miss it." He let himself drift, just his little finger twined with Gabe's. "You wanna go back up?"

Gabriel hummed. "Soon," he said. He stretched and opened his eyes, and Sam caught his breath at the way the moonlight glinted on the whiskey-gold. He looked contented, in that way that was becoming more familiar but was still difficult to reconcile to the face of the Trickster.

"You're beautiful," Sam blurted without meaning to, and Gabriel blinked at him in genuine surprise. "Um," he said defensively. "What? You are."

Gabriel looked away, pulling his hand back. "I'm an _archangel_ , Sammy-boy," he said. "Don't need to be beautiful."

Sam drew back. "Wait. You don't -- you don't think you are, do you?"

Gabriel exhaled. "I"m barely over five and a half feet tall," he mumbled. "You're a _foot_ taller than me. And I have this chin, and -- and I _lisp_ \--"

Sam heaved himself off his inner tube, floundering upright until he was bent over Gabriel, still laid out and staring up confusedly.

"You're insane," Sam informed him, then shushed him with a kiss when Gabe bristled. "I mean, you _are_ insane," he continued. "You're a complete asshole, you know. And you think you're so selfish, so petty. But you'll give up _everything_ , when you decide it's right." Gabriel flushed, pretty in the moonlight, and Sam kissed his lower lip. "Even before, when you hated me and Dean."

"Never hated," Gabriel said, chasing his lips. "Didn't _like_ Dean, before, but didn't hate. And you, shit, how could _anyone_ \--"

"And you _are_ gorgeous," Sam interrupted, leaning back slightly. "Jesus, have you seen yourself? Your eyes and your lips, and your body…"

Gabriel snorted. "Have I seen myself? Not really," he admitted. "Nothing I liked."

"You look like caramel," Sam whispered, twisting his hands in Gabriel's hair. "You taste like sugar." He leaned down and kissed him again, slow and thorough, and Gabriel bit back a moan.

"You -- you taste like pool chemicals," Gabriel said breathlessly when they broke apart, and Sam snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Are you complaining?" he said, reaching out to push damp strands of water-darkened hair off of Gabriel's forehead.

"Not a bit, little moose," Gabriel murmured, and tugged Sam's mouth back to his. "Not a bit."


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E

"Would you show me how to masturbate, Dean?" 

Dean choked slightly on his beer, turning to look at the angel with a raised eyebrow. Out of all the things they'd done lately, it was hardly the strangest request, but --

"Uh, Cas, not complainin' here or anythin', but pretty sure you already know how. 'less you call jerkin' off in front've me in a laundromat somethin' different."

Cas shrugged. "It is different. I could have come just from watching you on that washing machine," he said matter-of-factly, and Dean's dick twitched.

 _Great_ , Dean thought, in equal parts amusement, frustration and nascent arousal, _my dick's turning into a fucking Pavlov dong_.

"Besides," Cas added, "I want you to show me how _you_ masturbate."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean said hoarsely, and cleared his throat. "Closet voyeur, huh?"

Cas blinked. "I don't believe so. I don't wish to watch anyone else. Nor from a closet."

Dean snorted. "Should I be flattered?"

"If you find facts flattering."

"You're ridiculous," Dean said with a laugh, then brushed his hand over Cas' jaw when a hurt expression flashed across his face. "S'a good thing," he assured him. "Anyway, uh, why, though? Gettin' bored of my dick, huh?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "You know that we will not always be together, Dean."

Something hot and painful sank into Dean's chest. He tried to hide it, but to his slight surprise Cas caught the look in his eyes.

"You misunderstand, I think. I still have duties to Heaven, at least for the moment. And you will have tasks on which I cannot accompany you."

"An' you wanna think 'bout me when I'm not there, hmm?"

"Yes," Cas said simply.

Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes, but the ugly ball twining under his ribcage dissipated. Cas just watched him, chin in hand, his eyes bright and unearthly even in the motel light.

"Can't argue with that," he said with a small laugh. "And I guess we did kinda skip right over the whole awkward handjob phase. So... d'you want to watch _me_ , or d'you want me to, you know… show _you_?"

Cas tilted his head, scrunching his forehead in the way that had somehow gone from _fucking dorky_ to _kinda cute_ to _holy fucking shit hot_ in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

"I don't know," he finally said. "I'd like to see what you do to pleasure yourself. But I'd also like to feel you doing the same to me."

Dean let out a groan. He crossed over from his perch at the laptop on the table, sitting down next to Castiel on the bed.

"M'kay, well, you want -- you want me to do this or you to do this?" he said, flushing. His fingers danced up and down the angel's arm, and he hoped he'd got the message. "I mean --"

"You, Dean," Cas said, looking down at his hands, and Dean's cock gave another jerk.

"OK," he said. "Take off your clothes."

Cas reached up, pulling off his t-shirt -- one of Dean's that he'd been wearing to bed -- and then shifted out of his jeans, and Dean followed suit, gratified to see that Cas was already hard.

"You want me to touch you first?" he said, lacing their hands together. "Show you the way I'd do it to myself? Then maybe we can try it together?"

"OK," Cas whispered, and Dean leaned over to press a kiss against his temple.

"I love it when you get all shy," he growled against his ear, and Cas shivered. "So fuckin' hot."

Dean sat back against the headboard, considering, then patted the bed in front of him. Cas crawled into his lap, and Dean manhandled him until he was sprawled between his legs, back pressed to Dean's chest. He kissed Cas' neck and ran his hand down his arms, following the trail of goosebumps prickling up.

"So sensitive," he murmured, brushing his fingertips over his ribcage. He paused to tug at a nipple and Cas arched against him, his head tipping back onto Dean's shoulder. "You want me to touch you, hmm?"

"Y- _yes_ ," Cas gasped, shuddering.

"Hmm," Dean said again, nipping at Cas' ear. He stroked down Cas' torso until his hands were resting on the inside of his thighs, tugging gently. "Spread 'em for me, angel. Nice and wide."

Cas obeyed, bending his knees until his feet were planted outside Dean's legs, letting him nudge them wider, and Dean hummed approvingly.

"Good boy," he whispered, moving his hands to rest on Cas' hipbones. "Good little angel." Cas moaned quietly, and Dean smiled against his shoulderblades. "So you want me to touch you," he continued, rubbing small circles onto his skin, drifting slowly lower. "You want me to touch you like I used to touch myself, thinking of you?"

Cas choked out a cry, digging his fingertips into Dean's legs to still himself.

Dean drifted his fingers lower still, resting inches from his dripping cock. "I used to, you know," he said, almost conversationally. "Used to jerk off all the fucking time, thinkin' of you. Your perfect mouth wrapped around me, imagining what you got under that trenchcoat. Never thought I'd get to find out… to have you like this, laid out in front've me, trembling and begging."

"Dean… _please_..."

"I got you, baby," he said. He smoothed his hands from Cas' groin down to his knees, then finally wrapped his right hand loosely around his cock.

"I liked to take it slow," he said, digging his left hand into Cas' thigh. "Dreamed about takin' you apart." He jerked his hips, his cock sliding over Cas' lower back. "You never thought 'bout me?"

"I," Cas gasped. "Yes, no, I…"

"Which is it?" Dean said, tightening his grip. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," Cas whispered. "I, I thought about you. But I never, it never affected me… not like this. Not until you kissed me."

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas' neck, just under his ear. "You like this, now?"

"Yes," Cas murmured. "I -- please."

Dean groaned and set up a slow rhythm, fisting Cas' cock up and down.

"So beautiful," he murmured, mouthing at his neck. "So perfect."

Cas keened, high and broken, and Dean let go. "Wanna stop?" he said, fingers dancing along ribs.

"Please," Cas whispered, his head falling forward. "Please don't stop."

"Want me to make you come, Castiel?" Dean said thickly, his mouth buried in the angel's neck. 

"Please," Cas repeated, turning his face away.

"Mm… Not yet, little angel," he said. "Wanna make this last." He stroked his hands down Cas' ribs until his breathing slowed down, and he went pliant against Dean's chest, head tilted back into his neck.

Dean looked down, at Cas splayed between his legs, naked and still whimpering softly into his skin, and he couldn't help grinding his cock briefly against the base of Cas' spine.

"All right?" he said, and Cas nodded, his hair brushing Dean's jaw.

Dean reached down again and circled Cas lightly, smearing precome over the head with his thumb, and Cas' breath hitched. He trailed his free hand down Cas' ribs, further between his spread legs, stroking his perineum before tapping gently at his hole.

"Sometimes I fingered myself," Dean whispered, and Cas' hands flexed on his thighs. "Used to imagine it," he continued, punctuating his words with rolls of his hips, "imagine you fuckin' me. Shoved my fingers up inside… used to come so hard, wishin' it were you." Cas was panting audibly, his fingertips digging into Dean's legs, and he smiled. 

"Y'ever done that?" he said, brushing his lips against Cas' ear. "Ever fucked yourself?"

"N-no," Cas gasped, and Dean could feel the heat from Cas' face against his.

Dean pried one of Cas' hands free from its death grip on his leg and trailed it up his body to his lips, and Cas opened his mouth obediently.

"Suck, angel," Dean growled, and Cas began working his tongue over his own index and middle finger with obscene wet sounds.

"Jesus," Dean said, resting his forehead on Cas' shoulder. "Gonna make me come just listenin' to you."

He tugged at Cas' wrist, pushing his hand between his legs, behind his balls and against his hole, still stroking gently at his cock.

"You know what to do," he murmured, rubbing the back of his hand.

Cas finally turned his head, so that their eyes were locked together, and he let out a breathy moan.

"Do it, baby," Dean whispered. Cas bit his lip, and then he was pressing in, and Dean squeezed his cock as he worked inside. "So hot, so good for me." He shifted his hips so that Cas' knuckles rubbed against the base of his dick as his finger worked in and out. "Add another."

He tightened his hand on Cas' cock, adding a twist to swipe over the head, and Cas pressed his fingers in further.

"Good?" he asked, and Cas nodded, his mouth open and wet.

Dean pushed gently on Cas' hand, encouraging it in further, and suddenly Cas arched and groaned, his free hand digging bruises into Dean's thigh. Dean grabbed it, pulling it off his leg, and dragged it up and over to twist into his hair, then let his hand drift down to pull again at Cas' nipple.

"Dean," Cas hissed, and Dean bent forward to urge him into a kiss.

"Look at you," Dean said against his lips. "So fuckin' gorgeous. Gonna come for me, angel?"

Cas moaned, and Dean ground his hips up, his dick dripping through the cleft of Cas' ass.

" _Dean_ ," Cas hissed again. "Dean, _fuck_ \--"

"Not this time, little angel," he managed, increasing the pace of his hand on Cas' cock. "God, gonna make me come just like this…"

He thrust his hips up once hard, pushing Cas' fingers in deeper. Cas' body locked up, his hand twisted in Dean's hair and thighs taut and trembling, and then he was coming with a wordless cry, splashing onto his stomach and dripping between Dean's fingers.

"So good," Dean whispered, stroking Cas' leg as he gently worked him through the aftershocks. He wiped his hand on the bed sheets then brought both arms across Cas' chest, peppering kisses into his neck and hair.

The air was thick and silent for a moment, then he reached down to take care of his own aching cock, but Cas shifted, making a small unhappy noise.

"I want to see you," he murmured, cracking an eyelid, and Dean groaned.

" _Fuck_ , baby, we can do that." He stroked down the length of Cas' torso one more time, then carefully extricated himself from the tangle of Cas' limbs, sliding out from behind him. "Just lie back, OK?"

Cas settled himself against the pillows, limp and sated. Dean climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

"Look what you do to me," he said. "Barely even touched myself an' I'm about to come." Cas' eyes tracked down his body, lingering on his cock, swollen red and shiny with precome. He reached out for it, but Dean batted his hands away.

"You wanted to watch," he reminded him, voice hoarse. Cas bit his lip and nodded, hands twisting idly in the sheets.

Dean bent forward, pressing his cock down until it was slipping through the slick of sweat and come pooled on Cas' belly.

"Fuck," he growled, bracing his free hand on the bed. "So fuckin' hot, fuckin' myself with your come…"

Cas just watched him silently, his lips parted and eyes wide and reverent. 

Dean stared down for a moment, at his dick sliding between his hand and Cas' belly. As soon he looked back up, locking their eyes, he went rigid, head tipped forward, coming with a cry on Cas' skin.

He sat back without taking his eyes away, sucking in deep breaths, and Cas finally reached up to settle his on his waist, thumbs stroking the jut of his hipbones.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean murmured with a choked laugh, finally toppling over to lay beside him.

"I'm not --" Cas began, slurring, but Dean put a sticky hand on his mouth. Cas scowled at him, then stuck his tongue out to lick at the drying come, and Dean's dick gave a feeble twitch.

"So you think you can jerk off w'thout me now?" Dean said, fumbling for a t-shirt to swipe at the mess between them.

"Not sure," Cas mumbled, tipping forward until they were sprawled together. "I might need another demonstration."


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I maaaaay be gettin' a little over the top with Cas' kink exploration, which is maybe why this chapter took almost six weeks (and a ton of distractions in the form of one shots) to post.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I utterly shamelessly abuse Cas' grace as deus ex machina to justify putting things where said things should never go. please do not try this at home.
> 
> Rating: E

Dean acknowledged, distantly, that he had probably found himself tied up more than the average person. Mostly in the non-sexy way, admittedly, but some of the other as well.

And, really, if he'd thought about it, finding himself tied to the bed in a shitty Florida motel room at some point in his life wouldn't have seemed terribly unlikely.

Until recently, however, he would not have expected to find himself bent over a bed with his hands bound to the headboard, naked but for a now-familiar pair of pink panties yanked down and a sky-blue tie around his eyes, while an angel of the Lord knelt behind him, enthusiastically licking the remnants of a melted cherry popsicle from his freshly-spanked ass.

\---

Dean had barely gotten out of the shower that morning when the small bundle of pink silk sailed across the room and landed on his chest. He picked it up, then looked over at Cas with a raised eyebrow. Cas said nothing, but he had that glimmer in his eye that set Dean's stomach tingling.

Dean exhaled. "Dude, I'm glad you like me in pink an' all, but we're about to go meet Sam and Gabe for lunch."

"And?"

"And I can't wear satin panties to lunch with my _brother_!"

"Why? Do you frequently make a habit of discussing your choice of underwear with your brother? Or with mine?"

"Gross, dude. No. But --"

"Then put them on."

Dean opened his mouth to protest again, but shut it abruptly at the look the angel gave him.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. He dropped his towel and pulled the panties up, already taut over his half-hard dick, ignoring the smug smile at the edges of Cas' mouth. "Better make it worth it."

"I will."

At the little beachfront diner Cas kept himself pressed even closer against Dean than usual, capturing Dean's foot between his, and occasionally slipping a fingertip into the waistband of his jeans to tug softly at the silky fabric.

Sam, thankfully, seemed oblivious, but Dean caught the occasional smirk on Gabriel's face, which only deepened at Dean's answering scowl.

"So, you boys got plans for the day?" Gabe drawled with an exaggerated wink.

"Nah, just gonna --"

"Yes," Cas said simply.

Sam closed his eyes. "This is one of those times you tell me not to think about it, isn't it," he said to Gabe.

Gabriel poked him. "You're catching on, little moose."

"Can we never have this conversation over lunch?" Dean said, dropping his head into his hand. "Or, like, ever?"

"Agreed," Sam said fervently.

Dean cleared his throat. "So what about you guys, any plans? If I wanna ask?"

"Hot kinky man-sex," Gabriel said immediately. "Dean, did you know that your brother can do this _thing_ with his fingers? And I found this picture on the Internet, and -- _ow_!" he yelped as Sam's foot connected with his shin under the table.

" _Anyway_ ," Sam said with a long-suffering sigh. "It's a nice day, and Gabe wanted to try some water sports, so --"

Gabriel's grin just grew wider, and Sam flushed as he visibly reviewed what he'd say. "Jesus Christ," he groaned, "who knew an _archangel_ would be worse than my sadistic older brother? Jesus, _no_."

"Well, I'm not much of an archangel," Gabriel agreed. "But yes. I mean, honestly, Dean, can you blame me for wanting to see your Sasquatch of a brother on a paddleboard?"

Dean choked slightly on his coffee, and he wiped his mouth. "Yeah, OK, I'll give you that one."

Finally they finished their lunch -- at least, Dean and Gabriel polished off their bacon cheeseburgers and fries, Sam finished his grilled chicken sandwich and picked at the limp fruit salad, and Cas contented himself with stealing fries and stray bits of bacon off of Dean's plate -- and wandered back into the bright sun.

Sam grabbed a bag from the Impala and slung it over his shoulder. "We can walk back," he said. "It's only a few miles."

"Only a few miles!" Gabriel cried dramatically. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Well, no," Sam said. "Not anymore."

So Dean and Cas made their way back to their motel, Dean still acutely aware of the silky scraps hidden under his jeans. Sam and Dean had put their foot down at keeping their rooms at Gabe's stupid water-slide hotel, but neither quite wanted to go back to their old rooms of dirty carpet and a scorching pavement courtyard, so they compromised, finding a slightly grimy motel across the street from the beach with a small pool in the back.

Dean got out and stretched, smirking as Cas' gaze lingered on the hint of pink barely visible at his hips.

"So I take y'got somethin' planned in that strange angel brain, hmm?"

"Mm," Cas agreed, leaning against the sun-warmed car. "Not planned, exactly. But… curious."

"Curious? You wanna elaborate?"

Cas gave him a look, his eyes wandering up and down his body. "Inside, I think."

Dean swallowed.

He followed Cas into their room, sitting down on one of the beds.

"Cas, I --"

"Strip," Cas commanded, without looking back.

Dean's hands went instinctively to his shirt, but he hesitated. "Cas, wait."

Cas turned around immediately, the authority in his face replaced by wide-eyed concern. "Is -- are you OK? Did I do something wrong? Are you --"

Dean couldn't quite bite back a laugh at the way Cas' aura of angelic power melted into puppy-dog worry -- even though he knew full well that with Cas in this mood, he'd find himself regretting that laugh later.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he said. "God, almost wish you _would_ , be less intimidating. But…" He paused, considering. "I like to have an idea what's goin' on in your head, when we're, you know," and he gestured between them, "like this. You know I trust you. An' I know like… you know what's goin' on in my head -- what I _want_ \-- better'n _I_ do. But… I don't always know just what's in your head. And my life, well… kinda don't like surprises," he finished lamely. He was almost afraid to look up at the angel's face, expecting either apology or frustration or chagrin, but Cas just looked at him, his head tilted to the side, then sat down next to him.

"I see, I think," he said. "You enjoy this, when you surrender to me," -- and Dean flushed, biting his lip, "-- but you need the -- the context. Is that correct?"

"I guess," Dean muttered, staring at his hands. "Guess just growin' up, and spendin' the last three decades in the life, gotta know what's goin' on all the time… I'm sorry, it's dumb," he said. He reached again for the buttons on his shirt, but Cas caught his hands.

"You've taught me much of humanity, of yourself -- but I will make mistakes. As you know," he said, a small smile on his face. He rubbed his thumbs against Dean's wrists for a moment. "I think we should have a safeword," he announced, and Dean jerked his head up.

"What? Dude, _you_ said you didn't need one…"

Cas shrugged. "I don't anticipate using it, either of us. But I think I would find it… relieving. Knowing that I can't -- that _neither_ of us can go too far."

"Jesus," Dean said shakily. "What're you plannin' on doin' to me today? Should I be scared?"

"I don't think so," Cas said thoughtfully. "But I would like to explore more of dichotomies, of juxtaposition?"

"Pleasure and pain?" Dean croaked, echoing a previous conversation, and the tingling in his stomach amped up.

"Mm," Cas agreed. "Light and darkness. Heat and cold."

"Cas, baby, considering you're an angel and we both been to hell, this better not be a metaphor," Dean said, the hitch in his voice betraying his attempt at levity.

Cas just snorted softly. "I don't think you've taught me enough of humanity to understand metaphors." He pushed Dean down on the bed, gently. "What would you like for a safeword?"

Dean cleared his throat, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Uh, I like -- do you understand green-yellow-red? Like, green means everything's kosher, yellow slow down a minute, and red's, y'know, hold the phone, timeout?"

Cas blinked at him. "It seems straightforward enough." He paused again, watching Dean's face. "Are we -- are we… green?"

"Yeah," Dean said in a rasp. "We're green."

Cas stared at him for a moment longer, and then he seemed to _shift_ , from hesitant, awkward Cas back to Castiel, angel of the fucking Lord.

"Strip," he said again. "Leave the panties on." This time Dean jumped to obey, pulling off his clothes with shaky hands until he was lying against the pillows, naked but for the pink silk around his hips.

"Are you --?" Dean asked weakly, gesturing at Cas, still fully trench-coated in his angel-wear.

"If you'd like," Cas agreed, shrugging off his coat. "But it won't matter, as I intend to blindfold you. Is that all right?"

"Shit," Dean swore. "Y-yes."

Cas sighed, leaning in to spank Dean sharply on his hip, and Dean yelped. " _Yes_ is not what I want to hear from you."

Dean stared at him blankly, then it clicked. "Yes, uh -- green."

"Good boy," Cas said, pleased. He tugged off his tie and wrapped it around Dean's eyes, knotting it behind his head. "Good?"

"Good," Dean breathed.

"On your knees, then," Cas murmured. "Put your hands on the headboard. However is most comfortable."

Dean shifted over, crawling up onto his knees, then fumbled his hands along the headboard before finally resting them in the center, clasped together over a jut of wood.

"So good," Cas affirmed. "May I tie you up, or would you like your hands free?"

"Um," Dean mumbled. "If you -- if I say yes, will you untie them if I ask you?"

Cas paused in thought. "Only if you -- if you say yellow," he finally said. "If you don't, I will not."

"OK," Dean whispered. He turned his head, resting his cheek on his forearms, and his freckles stood out against the flush. "Then -- yes, tie my hands."

Cas dug one hand into the flesh of Dean's ass, reaching under the panties, then bent down to fumble for another tie from the floor, looping in nimbly between Dean's wrists and the headboard.

"Gettin' good at that," Dean croaked. "Gonna have a lot to teach if y'ever get back to angel school."

Cas smacked him hard. "I do not wish to practice with anyone but you," he growled. "I would hope you know that by now."

He pulled down Dean's panties until they were resting in the crease above his thighs, still caught over his cock, then ran gentle fingertips over his skin. Dean bit back a whimper, and Cas smiled.

"What do you want, Dean?"

"Anything," Dean said, his mouth muffled on his arm. "Please."

"So perfect," Cas breathed. "So perfect like this." He began spanking Dean, softly but relentlessly, just enough to raise a sting in one area before moving on to the next. Dean was breathing unsteadily, but keeping still, his wrists twisting almost absently in their binds.

After a few minutes, Dean began shifting, almost restless. "Cas," he said, "not that I'm _askin'_ you to start bruisin' my ass or anything, but --"

"Yes you are," Cas said matter-of-factly, without increasing the force or frequency of his blows, and Dean's flush deepened.

"Pretend you _can't_ read my mind once in awhile, huh?" he mumbled, pressing his face further into his elbows.

"I don't need to," Cas said with a sharper slap. "I've told you this."

He ran his hands over the skin, testing the heat of the flesh, then bent down, spreading his cheeks and pressing his tongue between.

"Fuck, Cas!" Dean cried out, hips jerking.

"Maybe," Cas agreed, murmuring into his skin. "Maybe not."

He licked at Dean's hole, then pushed his index finger in under his tongue, still peppering soft slaps on his skin, until Dean's body was warm and tingling as far as he could reach.

Finally he pulled away, with a gentle kiss to the base of Dean's spine, and stepped off the bed. His clothes dropped to the floor with a rustle, and then Dean heard the snick of the mini-fridge door opening and closing.

"Cas?" Dean croaked, trying to turn his head around despite the blindfold. "Cas, if you're just gonna leave me here while you have a beer, so help me --"

Cas' weight was on the bed again in an instant, something cold laid over his ass.

"Not that that wouldn't also be an interesting endeavor," Cas admitted, "that is not my intention." He pushed his finger back into Dean's body, then added a second, but only slid them in and out for a few moments before pulling off.

Dean heard the sound of paper tearing, and then something ice-cold was pressing against his hole.

"What the fuck?" Dean yelped, jerking away.

"Shh," Cas said, gripping his hip, and Dean felt the icy tip working inside of him.

"Wait," Dean gasped. "Wait -- yellow, _yellow_."

Cas stopped instantly, pulling away, while Dean took a deep breath.

"Cas, if that's what I think it is, like -- there's some things that ain't supposed to go in a body."

Cas tilted his head. "I don't understand."

Dean rubbed his sweaty forehead on his arm. "Dude. Frozen sugar water's, like, Christmas for bacteria an' stuff. Not really good up my ass. Not to mention splinters."

Cas blinked confusedly. "Dean, I've pulled you out of Hell. I took the Devil from your brother, and healed you from what should have left you torn. Do you think I would put you at risk of harm for my _pleasure_?"

He sounded almost affronted, and Dean relaxed.

"Yeah, OK," he said, dropping his head again. "I know, you -- 'm sorry, Cas…"

Cas blinked again. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I -- you know I trust you, I shouldn't've used the safeword, I --"

"Isn't that what it's for?" Cas asked, sounding genuinely bewildered. "Dean, it's very relieving that you trust me enough to use it, not to refrain from using it."

Dean choked out a laugh, then settled back again. "Yeah, you're right. I can explain more, later. But -- we're green."

"You're sure…?"

" _Yes_ ," Dean hissed, arching his back.

"God, you're perfect," Cas whispered.

He began pressing the frozen popsicle back inside, but this time Dean just groaned, spreading his legs.

"How does it feel?" Cas asked, working it in and out.

"S-strange," Dean gasped. "So cold, and almost burns, but --" 

"Good?"

"Good," Dean groaned. He turned his head again to bury his face into the pillows as much as he could reach.

Cas pushed it in again, twisting it until Dean's cries told him it was grinding frozen-hot against his prostate, then pulled his hand away.

"I want to spank you again," he said softly. "Harder, until this melts. And then I want to lick it from you until you come. May I?"

" _Jesus_ , Cas," Dean choked. "Remember when you were baffled by the pizza man?"

Cas pressed his lips against Dean's back, smiling slightly. "You've taught me much, Dean Winchester," he murmured. "Are we… green?"

Dean took a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah, Cas," he whispered. "Green."

Without warning Cas began spanking him in earnest, hard blows on either side and the tops of his thighs, occasionally pulling at the bunched-up panties to reach the tender sit-bones. All the while the bright cherry popsicle dripped out of his hole, his skin slowly turning to match its color.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean cried, his head clamped firmly between his forearms, and Cas grabbed the base of the half-melted stick, grinding it up harder.

"In a way," he agreed, still spanking relentlessly with his free hand.

By the time the melting sugar-ice blended with the red of the skin, Dean was writhing, desperate for friction on his aching cock, begging in a wordless prayer. Cas kissed the hot flesh, and with a flick of his hand the wooden stick had vanished, leaving only a trail of cherry-slick leaking from Dean's ass.

Cas urged Dean forward and his knees wider, licking at the hot precome mixed with sweet cold juice. He hummed, gathering the mixture onto one finger and pushing it back into Dean's ass, and Dean mewled.

"Taste so good," he said, pressing his tongue inside to lap at the sweetness. "I could taste you all day."

"So I'm your cherry pie," Dean gasped. "Good -- good to know."

Cas laughed softly, the sound reverberating up through Dean's body.

"Would you like me to make you come with my tongue, Dean?" he murmured. "Or my cock?"

" _Fuck_ , Cas," he whispered. "Which -- whichever --"

Cas smacked him again, sharply. "I asked you," he reminded him. "Tell me."

"With -- with your tongue, please," Dean gritted out. "Make me come on your tongue."

Cas let out a low, filthy moan. He dropped to his elbows, keeping Dean spread wide with one hand, and reached down to fist himself with the other, already leaking onto his stomach from the obscene litany pouring from Dean's mouth. He tongued out the liquid, growing warm inside, and Dean's body jerked.

"Do you think you can?" Cas asked, his lips against skin. "Just on my tongue?"

"Yes, fuck, Cas, yes, please…"

Cas choked back a moan at the sound of Dean begging. He squeezed Dean's ass hard as he gripped his own cock, and worked his tongue inside as far as he could.

"Cas," Dean chanted, barely coherent. "Cas, please, Cas --"

The headboard creaked as he twisted, trying to push back against Cas and rut against the bed, and Cas spanked him sharply. "Be still."

Dean let out a choked whine, but he stilled himself, dropping his face back into his arms.

"Good boy," Cas whispered. He reached down and gathered the silky fabric between Dean's legs, tugging softly in rhythm with his tongue, and Dean's breathing grew frantic. He pulled harder, working his other hand faster on his own cock, then yanked hard once.

Dean cried out, arched and trembling as he came, hot liquid spreading down the front of the panties, mixing with the sugar and saliva already coating the fabric. Cas kept it taut in his fingers, working him through his orgasm with his tongue.

As soon as Dean's breathing began to settle Cas finally pulled away and got to his knees. He grabbed Dean's hips and pushed his cock between his legs, rubbing against Dean's softening length through the fabric, and within seconds he came with a gasp, dripping off the outside of the silk.

He stayed still for a few moments, head bowed and holding onto Dean's waist, then took a deep, shuddering breath and toppled over, pulling Dean with him.

" _Oof_ ," Dean mumbled. "Still kinda --" He twisted his wrists awkwardly, still bound to the headboard. Cas blinked at him blearily, then reached up to untie them with a boneless arm.

"The hell, angel," Dean slurred, flexing his wrists, and turned over to throw an arm over him. "One day you're askin' me to teach you how to jerk off, next day you're all back to freaky sex god?"

"Mm," Cas agreed, pulling Dean closer and nuzzling at his neck.

"Whoa, buddy, no sleepin' yet. You gotta help me out here, 'cause I am _not_ up for the kinda shower I need right now."

"Mm," Cas repeated, kissing his shoulder, but he reached down, brushing a gentle finger over Dean's dripping hole, and instantly the sugar-stickiness was gone, inside and out.

Dean snorted. "Couldn't mojo away the the crusty spunk too, huh?"

"Could have," Cas agreed. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, _you_ can wear 'em next time then, asshole." He wiggled around until he could pull them off, dropping them on the floor. "Only I think these've probably seen their last rodeo."

"That's OK," Cas murmured, wrapping his around Dean and tangling their legs together. "We'll get you some more."


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sabriel is not my forte and this is short but it needed to get done already, I hope this is likeable.
> 
> Rating: E

Sam toed at the sand, staring at the line of paddleboards propped up near the shore.

"I can't _believe_ you convinced me to do this," he grumbled.

"Aw, c'mon, it'll be fun!" Gabriel chirped. "Haven't you ever wanted to do yoga on the ocean? Aren't you into that hippie bullshit?"

Sam rolled his eyes, shoving Gabe away. "Yeah, on dry land. Not flailing in the water while _you_ ," and he shoved at Gabriel with his paddle, "mysteriously happen to have flawlesss balance and preternatural flexibility."

"You weren't complaining about my flexibility _last_ night, Sammy-boy," Gabriel teased, and Sam groaned. "Look, what if I promise not to use my grace?"

Sam eyed him suspiciously, and he held up his hands. "No catches, I swear. If I lose my balance, I'm face-planting in the Atlantic, same as you."

Sam squinted at him, but the Florida sun was shining bright and gold in his hair, catching the amber glints of his eyes, and he sighed in defeat. "Fine. But if I drown or get eaten by a shark, I'm gonna be so pissed at you."

Gabriel grinned at him. "I'll save you, little moose."

Finally the instructor waved them all down to the shoreline, grey-green water licking at their toes.

"My name's Kim, and welcome to paddleboard yoga!" she called, clapping her hands enthusiastically, and Sam stifled an eye-roll. "Believe it or not, you really don't need any experience for this, so don't be scared."

"See?" Gabriel whispered. "Oh, just let me use a _little_ grace, and we could be the stars…"

" _No_ , Gabe," Sam hissed, snickering, and Gabriel huffed.

"Grab a paddleboard, hop on it," -- and Kim neatly perched herself on her knees, "and come on out."

"How is this my life," Sam muttered to himself.

He shoved a board into the water, snugged the paddle under a line of elastic at the front and climbed gingerly on top, balancing on his knees.

"Oh God!" he yelped, wobbling wildly, then flushed. But he looked around, and while two or three people were already standing up, skillfully pushing themselves around the inlet, everybody else was flailing and yelping and laughing, accompanied by the occasional telltale splash.

Gabriel, true to his word, was crouched on his haunches, gripping the edges of the board.

"OK, I might have misjudged this," he admitted, letting go for a moment only to teeter back and forth, and Sam snorted.

"Your idea," he reminded him smugly. He picked up his oar and began paddling awkwardly towards the instructor.

Kim stood up with infuriating grace. "OK," she called, clapping her hands again. "Everybody, find your child's pose." She dropped to her knees, head planted on the mat and arms stretched out, and Sam followed her lead.

"This much I got," Gabriel muttered from behind him. "Especially if I get to check out your --"

"And into your first downward-facing dog." She neatly folded herself into a triangle, and Sam clumsily mimicked it, gratified to hear a small shriek from Gabriel.

"Not so easy without angel powers, huh?" he whispered, and Gabe glared at him.

As awkward as it was, the ocean was warm and gentle, and tiny fish swam in the cloudy water. The sun shone down hot and invigorating, and it again occurred to Sam how easy it was to forget about the reality of his life in the company of the archangel.

A wet oar smacking against his ass brought him back to the present.

"Wanna try standing up, Sam-moose?"

"Oh God," Sam said with a shudder. "You swear you'll save me if I drown?"

"Cross my heart," Gabriel avowed.

Sam slowly got to his feet, arms splayed out for balance, and as soon as he stood up straight a yell rang out to his side. He turned automatically at the familiar voice, but the sudden motion threw him off balance. He wobbled, then crashed into the water.

"Goddammit," he spluttered, glowering at Gabriel still perched smugly on his board. "You're a dirty fucking cheat, you know that, for an archangel."

"I've been told," Gabe agreed.

Sam waded back to his board and clambered on, swaying awkwardly on his knees. He picked up his paddle, glanced over at Gabriel, and gave his board a swift shove.

Gabriel yelped, teetered, then tumbled head-first into the inlet. Stringy seaweed stuck to his face when he popped up, and Sam doubled over laughing.

"Moose," Gabriel gasped, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "I swear to Dad, I'm gonna --"

"Boys," the instructor called, waving her paddle at them. "Not to go all recess monitor on you, but it's hard enough to stay on the boards _without_ people splashing around."

"Sorry," they called back sheepishly, and she smiled at them.

"We keep the last five or ten minutes of class set aside for playing around. Now let's finish our _vinyasa_ and find your next down dog, and we'll start our first Sun Salutation."

An hour later Sam and Gabe stumbled out of the warm shallows, soaked and laughing.

"That was fun," Sam admitted, plucking stray shell fragments from his arm.

"I'm always fun," Gabriel retorted. "I'd hoped you'd realized that by now."

"Well, you're definitely never boring, I'll give you that."

"You'd be surprised," Gabe said thoughtfully. "After a few thousand years, even archangels can get into a sulk."

Sam snorted. "Well, hopefully I can keep you entertained for awhile."

Gabriel eyed him up and down, lingering on the cheap gift-shop swim trunks clinging to his ass. "Think you're good on that one, little moose."

Sam blushed, hip-checking Gabriel and sending him tumbling into the soft white sand.

"Not fair," he grumbled, standing up and brushing himself off. "If I can't use my powers, _you_ can't use your ridiculous Samsquatchian height advantage."

"Samsquatchian?" Sam repeated, grinning.

"It's appropriate," Gabriel declared. He reached out and tangled their hands together -- then swung his arm sharply in front of him and let go. Sam squawked, throwing out his long arms for balance, then fell into a high sand dune. "How d'ya like me now, moose?"

"Ow, ow, sandspurs!" Sam yelped, twisting awkwardly.

"Oh, shit," Gabe apologized, jumping over and holding out his hand. "Sorry, Sammy, I -- _fuck_!" Sam grabbed his hand and yanked him into the sea grass, using the leverage to pull himself up and take off running down the beach.

"Truce?" he yelled, brandishing a piece of driftwood like a sword.

Gabriel squinted at him, shaking the sand from his eyes, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly Sam found himself pressed against the wall of the motel shower, mysteriously divested of his clothes.

"Truce," Gabriel agreed, reaching up to tug at his hair.

"Jesus," Sam swallowed.

"Not quite," Gabriel said, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"You ever gonna stop using that line?"

"Probably not." He leaned up and kissed Sam lazily, letting the hot water wash the sand and seaweed away, and rolled his shoulders. "Gotta say, Sam-moose, humans were onto something when you invented plumbing. Archangelic power's got nothing on water pressure."

"Glad you approve," Sam said drily. "Space flight and supercomputers, but it's plumbing that you appreciate."

"It's not all I appreciate," Gabriel murmured, running his hands down Sam's back until they landed on his ass, and Sam choked out a laugh that ended in a groan.

"Are _all_ archangels as subtle as you?"

"You've been possessed by my brother," Gabriel pointed out. "You would know." He paused, then shuddered. "Never let me mention a brother when I'm naked with you again."

"Only if the same goes for you." He wrapped his hands under Gabriel's thighs and picked him up neatly, spinning them around. Gabriel's head fell back against the wall, and Sam licked at the drops of water pooling in his shoulderblades.

"You're gonna kill me, Sammy," Gabe mumbled, arching against him.

"That would be impressive," Sam agreed. He hitched one leg up until his foot was on the edge of the tub, supporting Gabriel on his leg until he was spread open. Trailing his hand between his legs, he mouthed along the lines of his throat until their lips were pressed together, and teased his finger further.

"Fuck, Sammy," Gabriel hissed, and Sam hummed.

"Do you want me to…"

" _Yes_ , I _want_ you to." Gabriel tensed for a second and shuddered, and then Sam's fingers slid in and out of him easily, and Sam grinned.

"Done with not-grace cheating?" he asked.

"Yes. Now will you -- fucking -- _fuck me_ \--"

"Since you asked so nicely…"

He shifted his hips, bracing his hand on the shower wall, until Gabriel was spread out over his cock, the head teasing his hole.

"Sam," Gabe choked out, "if you don't -- I swear to --"

"Please don't finish that sentence," Sam murmured, then thrust up gently until he was inside, muscles shivering.

"Oh," Gabriel whispered, his fingers digging into Sam's back. "Oh."

"Yeah," Sam said weakly. "God, if this is what I gotta do -- to shut you up -- I might never stop…"

"You say the sweetest things," Gabriel gasped. "But please, don't stop."

Sam growled, taking one hand off the wall to urge Gabriel up and down.

"Oh, God," Gabriel said, biting into Sam's shoulder. "Hope you don't expect -- angelic stamina. Not fair, looking at you in wet swim trunks…"

"Have you _seen_ what you look like in the sun?" Sam returned breathlessly. "You're -- you're golden, you're all golden…"

"C'mon, Sammy," Gabriel begged. "I'm so close, so close --"

"Should just make you wait," Sam muttered, but he angled up harder, until Gabriel's head fell back and his mouth fell open.

Finally he shifted his hand from Gabriel's hip to his cock, stroking in rhythm, and within seconds Gabriel was crying out and spilling over his fingers. At the clenching heat, Sam dug his fingers into his flesh and pulled Gabe down hard on top of him, until he went rigid, coming deep inside.

"Unf," Gabriel asserted, dropping his head onto Sam's shoulder.

"Mm," Sam agreed. He pulled out gingerly, propping Gabriel against the wall, then splashed some water between them, swiping a tender hand at Gabe's ass. "Good enough."

He shut off the water and stumbled out, pulling the dazed archangel behind him. Their clothes lay untouched and they groped their way into the bed, fumbling at the remote until some cooking show was playing on the old television.

"I want pizza," Gabriel mumbled, turning into his shoulder, and Sam snorted.

"Then we'll have pizza," he avowed. "Whatever you want."

Gabriel's eyes flicked up to him, smirking. "Anchovies?"

"No, dickhead," Sam said, laughing. "Something not gross."

"Fine," Gabriel sighed. "Mm… ham and pineapple?"

"Pineapple?"

"It's sweet. And tasty."

"Fine," Sam sighed. "You're lucky I like you."

"Mm," Gabriel agreed, wiggling his hips. "Jesus."

Sam smirked, dropping a kiss to his head. "Not quite."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason I have been writing this for like two months, and it gets pushed to the back-burner for other stuff, or just gets neglected. I'm not particularly happy with it but *shoves it onto you all*
> 
> AND THERE'S NOT EVEN ANY SMUT THIS TIME I'M SORRY.
> 
> (I took some liberties with the tattoo process, please accept my apologies)
> 
> Rating: E

Dean lay back on a plastic lounge chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the cool ocean breeze, and Cas' soft fingertips tracing his anti-possession tattoo in gentle circles.

"Did it hurt?" Cas asked curiously, pressing down on the inked skin.

"Hmm?" Dean said, cracking an eyelid. "My tattoo? Well, yeah, I guess so -- I mean, you're gettin' a needle jabbed into your skin over and over, but like, that's kinda a typical Tuesday for us. S'not bad."

"Hmm," Cas echoed, studying the design with his usual intensity. "I think I want one," he announced suddenly.

Dean blinked. "What, an anti-possession tattoo?"

"Warding sigils would have no effect on me," Cas said thoughtfully. "Something purely aesthetic."

"Huh," Dean said. "Well, long as you don't go gettin' a fuckin' tramp stamp or somethin'."

Cas frowned at him. "I don't fully understand that term, but I suspect it is both ignorant and offensive."

"OK, OK!" Dean said, putting up his hands. "I just meant -- sometimes people get things they regret, 'specially their first. Should make sure you get somethin' meaningful. You got any ideas?"

"Not yet," he said, staring out over the water. "I'll think about it."

"Think about what?" Gabriel said, shaking the water from his hair as he ambled over.

"Cas wants to get inked up," Dean supplied.

"Whoa!" Gabriel said, laughing. "Going all rebellious on us, Cassie?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "In the first place, there is nothing inherently 'rebellious' about tattoos. Quite the contrary, as they've been a cultural norm in some parts of the world for millennia. In the Neolithic era --"

"Chill, Cassie, baby," Gabriel interrupted. "I'm the only one here that you _don't_ need to give a history lesson to."

Cas scowled at him, and Dean bit back a laugh at the petulance on the angel's face. "And anyway, even if it were an act of rebellion, I hardly think it would be my worst."

"Can't argue that," Gabriel agreed cheerfully, but there was tenderness in his expression. "So! Any idea what you're going to get? Naked lady on your arm? Maybe dolphins on your ankle? Ooh, you could just get Dean's name with a heart around it!"

"I don't need a tattoo to remind me of my love for Dean," Cas said. Dean groaned, but a pleased flush crept up his throat.

"Sap," he said affectionately, nudging at his shoulder, and Cas smiled.

"Maybe I'll get one too," Gabriel said, tilting his head thoughtfully. "I've been in this vessel for thousands of years, maybe I should mark it with something of my own." He paused, then turned to Dean with a rare look of sheepishness. "Unless it's, like, a thing for you guys? Not trying to butt in here."

"Holy shit, did you just find your sense of tact, dude?" Dean said, laughing.

"I've always had a sense of tact," Gabriel sniffed. "I just prefer to ignore it."

"Yeah, you could say that," Dean agreed. "Anyway, no. Maybe someday, but right now I don't feel the urge to get stabbed any more'n I already do. I'd just be there to hold Cas' hand and tell him it looks hot."

"Hmm." Gabriel turned, squinting against the sun towards Sam's long form floating on his back. "Hey, Samsquatch! Would it make you all dewy if I got a tattoo?"

"If you get a candy bar tattooed on your body, I am never having sex with you again, so help me God," Sam called without opening his eyes.

"Well, I've already convinced you to taste the rainbow, so it'd be kind of pointless anyway." 

Dean made a loud gagging sound, and Cas blinked confusedly.

" _Anyway_ ," Dean said with a pointed cough. "You actually got any ideas, Gabe? Preferably ones that _don't_ involve fucking my baby brother?"

"Well, most of my ideas do involve fucking your baby brother," Gabe said amiably, dodging the pebble Dean flicked at him. "But no, nothing in particular at the moment. But I'm very creative." He winked, and Dean groaned.

After showering, they converged back in Sam and Gabriel's room, pulling beers from the motel fridge.

"Pizza," Dean declared, flopping onto the one tidy bed. "The fuck is sun so tiring, man?"

"I'll get it," Sam said absently. "Um… one Meat Lovers, one Supreme?"

"I think we've established we're _all_ meat lovers here, Sammy-boy," Gabriel said with an eyebrow wiggle.

Sam snorted. "Dude, are you twelve?"

"We've been over this, little moose. Occasionally. Mostly not."

Cas sat down next to Dean and pulled out his phone, thumbing away at it thoughtfully. Dean leaned over, nudging at Cas' arm until he could peek at the screen.

"Stars?" he said curiously.

Cas hummed. "Perhaps. I like the idea of having bits of the universe on my human vessel." He paused, then looked up at Dean uncertainly. "Is that -- would that be appropriate?"

"Cas, if you wanna get a two-foot-tall bumblebee on your back, you just do your thing," Dean declared.

Cas frowned. "I don't --"

"Kidding, dude," Dean interrupted. He pressed a kiss to the angel's neck. "Or, well, not _kidding_ exactly, but -- yeah, Cas, if that's what you want, I think stars'd suit you. Any idea which?"

"A few," Cas murmured, swiping through Google images. "I think Orion would be fitting."

"Orion?" Dean asked. "Like, the dude with the belt?"

"Your knowledge of astronomy floors me," Sam said without looking up, and Dean stuck his tongue out.

"His belt is the most widely recognized feature," Cas affirmed. "But in many mythologies, he is known as the Hunter."

"Huh," Dean said. "A celestial hunter. Guess that would suit you."

"Little grandiose, but I like it," Gabriel agreed. "You're probably the closest thing to Orion we've got at the moment, Cassie."

Sam finished ordering the pizza, and Gabriel immediately dragged him out of the chair, sitting down at the desk and tapping away at Google.

"Ooh, like this!" he crowed, pointing at the screen, and Sam groaned.

"Please do not get a naked lady tattoo."

"Sammy-boy, these tattoos were significant in American history, and --"

" _No_ , Gabe."

"I could get a moose."

"Oh, my God."

\---

Less than twenty-four hours later, Sam and Dean found themselves crammed into a small but impeccably clean tattoo parlor on the mainland, with a seraph and an archangel calmly lying back in two big beige chairs. 

Sam had spent a solid hour on Yelp, perusing ratings and reviews. Finally he called one of the top results, and miraculously they had two openings the next day.

One of the artists was a big, burly guy named Jacob, somewhere in his late fifties. He bent over Cas' left shoulder, pressing the stencil onto his skin.

"Don't think I've seen this before," he commented, smoothing the paper down carefully. "Stars, sure, but what's this?"

"Galileo's sketch," Cas said, craning his neck. "He liked Orion."

Jacob paused for a second, his eyes flicking up. "Oh," he finally said. "It's a nice design."

Meanwhile a pretty woman was arguing with Gabriel, her arms covered in intricate watercolor tattoos.

"I'll do whatever you pay me for," she said, resignedly, "but I really think --"

"Listen to Marta," Jacob called, still concentrating on Cas' arm. "She's one of the best."

"Damn right," she answered. She nudged at a few printouts still littering Gabriel's lap. "Look. You've barely looked twice at any of these. You really want this inked on you?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can do something else with it if I change my mind," he said airily, winking at Sam.

Marta rolled her eyes. "That's really not the best attitude to approach tattoos," she said. "They _are_ permanent, you know. Like I said, it's your call, but the fun part of this job is coming up with designs my customers _like_."

Sam expected more flippant remarks from the archangel, or possibly the appearance of an even more ostentatious design, but Gabriel just nodded thoughtfully, apparently considering Marta's advice.

"What about a lily flower?" he finally asked.

She blinked in surprise. "Uh, that's definitely going in another direction," she said, gesturing at the garish sketches he'd been perusing.

"Well, you're right," Gabriel acknowledged. "I should get something that means something, and the lily is one of my symbols."

She raised an eyebrow. "One of your --?"

"Of the angel I was named for," he amended easily. "The archangel."

"Huh. You religious then?" she asked curiously.

"Not as such," he said with a grin. "But it's a complicated question."

"Often is, huh." Dean snorted, and she glanced at him questioningly, but he waved her off. "Anyway, yeah, if that's what you want, we can do a lily. Any particular style…?"

"Can you do it in the style of yours?" he asked, pointing at her arms.

"Watercolor? Well, yeah, but I don't think I have any designs ready to go in that style, you'd have to give me a few days to come up with a sketch..."

"Worth it," Jacob interjected, frowning at a smudge on Cas' stencil. "That's her specialty."

"Actually, I think there was something in one of your books that caught my eye." Gabriel leaned over, snagging one of the sketchbooks on a nearby shelf and flipping through it. He paged back and forth for a minute, then flipped it around triumphantly.

Marta frowned, taking the book from him. "Hell if I remember drawing that," she mused. "Comes with the job, I guess." She considered it carefully. "Yeah, I can do that. Take a little longer than your friend's, but should be able to do it in one session. You want it just like the design?"

"Just like that," Gabriel affirmed.

"Mkay. Let me go make a stencil, and we'll figure out where you want it."

"What'd you decide on?" Sam asked as Marta stood up. She turned the book around to show Sam, and his eyebrows rose. "That's, uh… surprisingly… tasteful."

"Should I be offended?" Gabriel demanded as Marta took the book to a low desk and sat down. "I think I should be offended."

"Based on the shit you were showing me, I'm on his side," she said dryly.

Gabriel sniffed. "You'd think between my brother and my boyfriend, I'd have _some_ support."

Marta's eyes flicked between them, landing on Dean's hand grasping Cas' as Jacob began to mix the ink. "Okay, this is sounding a bit weird. You are --?"

"Both his brother's boyfriend and his boyfriend's brother," Dean sighed, rubbing his face. "Believe me, I am not involved with that moose," -- pointing at Sam, "-- or that fuckin' nutjob. It just… worked out that way."

She glanced between them again, a grin spreading over her face. "Got a sitcom here, Jacob," she teased, turning back to her desk.

Jacob grunted. He squinted at the design. "This look okay to you?" He spun a mirror over to face Cas, urging him up.

Cas stared at it, then blinked. "I -- that's perfect," he said, surprised. "How did you --?"

"My job," he reminded him. "You ready?"

"Yes." He sat back down, and Dean took his hand.

Jacob inked up his gun, then pressed it into Cas' bicep. Cas inhaled sharply, and Jacob paused, but then he let out a deep breath.

"Yes," he said, gripping Dean's hand. "I'm fine."

"Cassie's been through worse than a few needles," Gabriel chirped, kicking his feet against his chair. "He's a big boy."

"Cassie?" Jacob asked, and Cas glowered at Gabe.

"Castiel. Our father had… peculiar taste." He blinked down at the tattoo gun, buzzing against his bicep. "It feels… strange."

"Kinda like bee stings," Jacob offered, swiping at the first stars appearing on Cas' skin.

Cas smiled slightly. "I like the bees. They don't sting me."

"Yeah, Dean-o," Gabriel drawled. "Tell 'em about the time Cassie showed up naked and --"

"Oh, my God," Sam interrupted as Dean and Cas turned identical glares onto Gabe, who just smirked.

"Not gonna ask," Marta said. She came back over with a translucent sheet of paper, holding it out to Gabriel for approval. "This look right?"

"Perfect," Gabriel declared. "Where should it go, d'you think?"

"Right on his stupid fuckin' ass," Dean muttered, rubbing his thumb over Cas' knuckles.

"Why, Dean!" Gabriel gasped in mock offense. "I know Sammy over here'd love to see my ass, but I didn't --"

"Can we keep the flirting to a minimum?" Marta said, but her lips were twitching. She turned to Sam. "Is he always like this?"

"Oh, this is him behaving himself," Sam sighed, and Dean snorted.

"Terrifying," she said with a laugh, and was met with three nods of agreement and one indignant huff.

"I'm adorable," Gabriel declared. "But seriously. You're the expert, ink-lady. Whatcha think?"

She eyed the design appraisingly. "Well, it's a pretty flat design, so you wouldn't want it in any highly muscled area --"

"No worries there," Sam interjected.

"Listen, we can't all be gigantic moose-men --"

"-- but any larger, planar surface would work. Back or ribs, bicep, thigh or calf. Depends on if you want it easily covered as well."

"Hmm," Gabriel pondered. "Not my back; I want to see it. Maybe ribs."

"Ribs are among the more painful areas," Marta warned, and he scoffed.

"How bad is it, Cassie?"

Cas shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. "It stings. Not nearly as bad as getting stabbed."

"Well, _that's_ quite the endorsement," Jacob said, swiping at a smear of ink. "Be sure to leave that on Yelp. 'Better than being stabbed.'"

"I mean, he'd know," Gabriel said off-handedly, still considering the stencil.

Jacob's eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced at Cas' plain slacks, then over at the trenchcoat and dress shirt hung over a chair. "Can happen to anyone, I guess," he finally said with a shrug.

"Especially if your boyfriend likes to carry large knives," Gabriel agreed.

Jacob blinked. " _You_ stabbed him?" he said, staring at Dean.

"In my defense, I didn't know him yet," Dean offered. He kissed Cas' thumb, and Cas looked down at him with a small smile.

"At least they're more entertaining than the eighteen-year-olds asking for tribals and dolphins," Marta said. She plucked the stencil out of Gabriel's hand and held it out at arm's length against Gabe's body, eyeing it judiciously. "You know, I'd avoid the ribs, honestly. Everyone's a weird mix of bones and muscles and flab in that area, and it tends to fuck up the contours of tattoos like this."

"Are you calling me diplomatically calling me fat or just giving me an out for the rib pain?"

She rolled her eyes, then pulled up her own shirt far enough to reveal a pale peach hibiscus blossom. It was gorgeously designed, but the edges pinched and pulled in places, and it shifted slightly with her breathing. "My first that I drew. I wouldn't change it, but in retrospect, it was poor placement." She pulled up Gabriel's right sleeve, peering at his bicep, then spread the stencil across it. "See, like here: it's flat enough to carry most of the design, and the curvature is regular enough to avoid distortion."

Gabriel tilted his head, looking down at his arm, then tugged the stencil up a few inches until the lily petals curled over his shoulder. "What about there?"

Marta chewed on her lip, considering. She reached out and nudged it back and forth minutely, smoothing it down, then stepped back.

"I like it," she declared. "You need to get approval from your giant boy-toy over there? He looks like he could snap you in half if he wanted."

"I'm a little stronger than I look," Gabriel said with a wink, but he turned towards Sam. "Whatcha think, little moose?"

"Much better than a naked lady," Sam agreed. "I actually like it."

"Hey, what are we, chopped liver?" Dean demanded, craning his neck. Gabriel flicked him off, but he raised his hand so they could see. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Huh. Wouldn't've thought a pipsqueak like you could rock a pretty pink flower, but it actually looks kinda cool."

"A _pip_ \--"

"I like it as well," Cas interrupted over the buzz of the tattoo gun still working at his arm. "Though as a symbol of chastity and piety…"

"I am _very_ chaste and pious," Gabriel said, nodding gravely. "Thank you for your agreement."

"Now that we're all in agreement," Marta said, pushing Gabriel back into his chair, "think we could get started? It's already about time for dinner, and I'd rather not be here 'til midnight."

One of Gabriel's rare sheepish expressions flickered across his face. "Sorry," he said. "I'm kinda difficult."

Marta waved her hand. " _Difficult_ is the damn people who try to convince me that their fucking Shakespeare quote is gonna look awesome in ten millimeter high calligraphy. Customers who want to discuss a design to work out what they like aren't difficult."

"Well," Gabriel said. He proffered his arm melodramatically. "Let's do this."

Marta stared at it for a moment longer, then pulled the paper off, making a few quick marks on his skin. She wet his arm and pulled out a disposable razor.

"Are you going to _shave_ me?"

"It's standard practice." She swiped neatly at his skin with hydrogen peroxide. "You're not very hairy, for a guy --"

"What is this, emasculate-Gabriel day?" he commented to the air.

"-- but any hair can still interfere, especially with solid-color designs." She wiped off his arm with water, then carefully pressed the stencil against his skin. After rubbing over it for a few moments, she peeled it off again.

"Perfect," she declared, studying the neat lines. "I'll mix up my ink and we'll get started." She spun around, digging in the drawers of her workstation.

"How's it going, Cassie?" Gabriel asked.

Cas turned his head, blinking a few times. "It's very strange. It hurts, but it's almost hypnotic."

"Careful," Jacob warned without looking up. "Words of a new ink addict."

Finally Marta sat down, swinging her tray near the arm of the chair and setting neat cups of ink onto it. "You ready?" she asked, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves

"You know it, sweetie," Gabriel said with a grin.

She inked up her gun with a pale grey tone for the bottom of the stem, and pressed it to Gabriel's arm.

"Ow!" he yelped, jerking away, and she drew back.

"Hey, man, if you can't keep still, your tat's gonna be all kinds of screwy." She swiped at it with her thumb, then frowned at the unmarred skin. "Huh. Didn't break the skin, I guess. You gonna be okay?"

"Fine," Gabriel assured her, a small scowl on his face. "Just startled. Cassie, how I let you talk me into this --"

"Yeah," Dean interrupted. "Mister 'oh maybe I'll get one too' over there. Really bullied into it."

Gabriel glared at him, grimacing exaggeratedly when Marta put the gun back against his skin, but he held steady. "Why was this a good idea?"

\--

Two hours later, Gabriel was still whining relentlessly, but the lily flower had unfolded under Marta's skilled hands, grey-purples and pinks fading into flesh.

"God, you're _annoying_ ," Dean said again. Cas was still fiddling with his bandage, trying to shrug his shirt down to pluck it off and peer under it, and Dean smacked his hand away.

Sam made a noise of agreement, but he had shifted his chair to sit next to the archangel, stroking his free arm.

"It's gorgeous, dude," he said sincerely, leaning over. "Like, holy shit."

Marta pushed a stray lock of hair away with her shoulder. "It is," she affirmed. "Not to brag, but it's really good." She thumbed away a small blob of petroleum jelly on a petal. "If it's all right with you, when you're all cleaned up, can I take a picture for my portfolio?"

Gabriel blinked. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I don't get to do watercolor too often, and I think it turned out great. And -- not to be weird," she said, glancing between him and Sam, "but you're not exactly an unattractive guy. It shouldn't matter, but at conventions and shit, I can't deny it helps."

"See?" Sam said, flicking him on the chin. "Told you it's not just me."

Gabriel bit his lip, and for a moment looked far more like a vulnerable child than an archangel, but then he rearranged his face into its customary grin. "Can my moose be in the picture with me?"

Marta snorted. "Two hot men instead of one? Are you kidding? Your weird brother-boyfriends join in too, be my wildest dreams."

Cas shook his head, his hand coming up protectively over his shoulder, and Dean kissed his temple.

"Nah," Dean smiled. "These jackballs can have the limelight. But please don't ever say 'brother-boyfriends' again."

He ran his hand lightly over the tender tattooed flesh, and Cash sucked in a groan.

"It's… sensitive," Cas breathed, watching Dean's thumb stroking down his shoulder.

Dean's eyes widened, dilating slightly. "Uh, you guys ready to go?" he said, shifting back.

Gabe and Sam looked over, faces in identical expressions of disgust.

"We have to be models first," Gabriel said loftily. "Since you're too good to join us."

Marta rolled her eyes, but eventually she got Gabriel sitting in Sam's lap. Sam was grinning behind him, long legs splayed out to the sides, and Gabriel's lily flower was on prominent display, with one of Gabe's rare small smiles on his face.

"Awesome," Marta proclaimed, snapping a few pictures. "Shit, that's perfect -- I owe you guys. Take my card, you want another tattoo -- any of you fucking weirdos -- I'll give you a discount next time. These photos are _gold_ for my portfolio."

"Thank you," Cas said, holding his hand out to Jacob. "It's exactly what I wanted."

Jacob took it. "It suits you. You're an odd guy, Cas. But I like you. Got good taste." He flicked an eye at Dean. "Like men that stab you."

"It was _one time_ ," Dean began, but Gabriel interrupted.

"And thank you, too," he said to Marta. "Seriously. You were right. I would've gotten some dumbass shit if you hadn't talked me out of it. This is perfect."

"Well, it's my job," she said, but a tiny blush crept into her cheeks. She pulled a business card out from a small drawer and handed it over.

Gabriel tucked it away, winking at her, then pulled out a small card with his cell phone number on it, throwing it on the counter between Marta and Jacob.

"You guys ever need anything, we got a pretty good skill-set between the four of us," he drawled. "Call us anytime."

With a final wave they walked out the door, collapsing into the Impala.

"Do you have to make _everything_ difficult?" Sam demanded, laughing quietly.

Gabriel opened his mouth, but Dean cut in before he could reply.

"Well, he's your boyfriend. Can't say it's surprising."

"And I liked them," Cas said, his fingers still drifting over his shoulder. "I think they liked us."

"Yeah," Gabriel said. He tried to peer at his tattoo, beneath the bandage and the cotton of his shirt. "One of your better ideas, Cassie."

"I have them sometimes," Cas agreed. He turned his head out the window, thumbing over Orion's belt as he watched it in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are Cas and Gabe's tattoos -- not gonna lie, I self-indulgently gave Cas one of my own.
> 
>  
> 
>  


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okayyyy so maybe it's been a year to the day since I've updated my baby here, and that makes me sad. so have some bottom!cas (it's been awhile!) nerdporn, because why not.
> 
> all the astronomy things are from vague memories of college and then wikipedia, so if I fucked up any facts, feel free to point out.
> 
> and despite the fact that this mess has no plot at all and any chapter can baaaasically be read alone, this would probably be more fun if you've read the last chapter from a year ago.
> 
> (also hella unedited because I self-indulgently wanted to get this up on the year ficversary of its unintentional abandonment)

Dean and Cas sat on their hotel balcony, watching the crepuscular glow over the Atlantic fade into dusk. They sipped their beers in companionable quiet, each lost in thought.

"Whoa," Dean said, interrupting the silence. He gestured to the east, where an unearthly orange lit up the fog over the horizon. "Is that --?"

Cas paused, doing calculations in his head. "Yes," he murmured. "It's a full moon."

Dean blinked at him, then turned back to the ocean. "Huh."

As the last lingering light disappeared, the moon emerged from the cloud, coalescing into a shimmering sphere. Now and then a door snicked open, and invisible people padded out to join them, hidden by balcony walls. Somewhere several floors below, a whoop that could only belong to Gabriel rang out, and Dean snorted.

"S'nice," Dean admitted. He scooted his chair closer to Cas' until their shoulders bumped together.

"It is." Cas had borrowed one of Dean's faded t-shirts, and the wind off the ocean blew through his messy hair. Dean ran his fingers through it affectionately; Cas closed his eyes, content.

The moon rose further, reflecting over the waves. They watched the silhouettes of families playing in the still sun-warmed shallows, camera flashes like fireflies, and couples strolling leisurely through the sand.

"Hey," Dean said, nudging Cas and pointing at the sky, where stars had begun to appear. "Isn't that your celestial hunter dude? Orion?"

"His belt, yes." Cas tilted his head, staring up into the blue-black. "I suspect the light pollution is too heavy to see the fainter stars."

"You'll have to show me sometime," Dean said, and Cas smiled softly. "How is the ink, anyway? Still healin'?"

Cas pulled up his sleeve and twisted his neck, squinting at his bicep. The skin was still slightly pink, visible even in the pale moonlight. Dean stroked his hand reverently over the ink, raised like Braille under his thumb.

Cas hissed, and Dean froze immediately. "Sorry, dude," he apologized, moving his hand to unmarked skin. "Gotta still be pretty sore, I didn't mean --"

"No," Cas interrupted. "Or, well, yes, it is. But it's mostly just… sensitive."

Dean's eyes shot up, taking in the telltale flush, and his eyebrows rose.

"Sensitive, huh, angel?" he murmured. He pressed harder on one of the bigger stars. Cas bit his lip, goosebumps pebbling visibly over his shoulder. "Hmm." He smoothed his hand down Cas' arm, gentle but firm. "Looks like it's startin' to peel already."

Cas frowned, peering back down at his arm. "Peel? Is that --"

"S'normal," Dean assured him. "Just means it's healing right. Like when you get a sunburn. Well," he amended, eyeing Cas' perfect skin, "for those of us who can _get_ sunburns." He pressed a tiny kiss to the middle of the tattoo, and Cas sucked in a breath. "But you gotta keep bein' careful with the lotion, make sure it doesn't dry out. When's the last time you lubed it up?"

"Um -- this afternoon?"

"Hmph." Dean traced a fingertip over the edges, smoothing the flaking skin. Standing up, he held out a hand. "C'mon. Lemme give you a rubdown."

"Dean," Cas said, taking his hand confusedly, "I'm perfectly capable of --"

"Yeah, yeah." Dean pulled Cas inside, shutting the screen but leaving the sliding door and curtains open, so the hypnotic sound of the waves still filtered in. "I wanna do this for you." He tugged at the hem of the t-shirt. "Take this off."

"My tattoo is on my arm, not my chest," Cas protested half-heartedly, even as he pulled the shirt off.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't wanna get gross lotion on my favorite Zep shirt," Dean retorted. He manhandled Cas onto the bed, then grabbed the bottle of Aquaphor that Jacob had recommended. Squirting a glob onto his left hand, he dipped a fingertip in and began tracing the outline of the stars.

"How's that, angel?" he said, rubbing the cool lotion over inflamed skin.

"N-nice," Cas said, eyes falling closed.

"Nice," Dean repeated. He smoothed his thumb over the tattoo, from the top star almost touching Cas' collarbone to the last tiny ones halfway down his bicep. He kissed a few of the outlying stars, then traced the tip of his tongue in a connect-the-dots pattern over the edges. He paused, then --

"Oh, ew," he said, making a face. "Remind me not to suck face with Aquaphor."

Cas snorted weakly, but didn't open his eyes. "More?" he asked softly, stretching out his arm.

"Yeah." Dean drew his index finger slowly from star to star, pressing his fingertip into each one. He circled Bellatrix and Betelgeuse, watching Cas' face, and let his breath ghost over the sensitive skin.

"Dean," Cas breathed. "Dean, I want..."

"What, little angel?" Dean bit down lightly at a patch of unmarked skin. "What do you want?"

The flush in Cas' cheeks had deepened to crimson, and his arousal was evident in his slacks.

"You, please," he whispered, holding his arm still.

"You want me?"

Cas opened his eyes, turning a hazy glare to Dean. "Always."

"Jesus." Dean tugged his own shirt off before going to work on Cas' slacks, tugging them reverentially down his thighs, along with his boxers. "Didn't know gettin' inked up was gonna be a turn-on. Should do it more often."

Cas murmured something noncommittal, stretching back on the bed as Dean's lips wandered over his hipbones.

"So fuckin' gorgeous, Cas," Dean said, fingertip finally slipping down Cas' cock. "Dunno what I did to deserve you, but _fuck_..."

With visible effort, Cas propped himself on his elbows, looking down at Dean. "You're beautiful," he said, voice slightly slurred but honest. "You're perfect."

"Yeah, well." To hide his blush, Dean bent his head further, licking the head of Cas' cock. Cas bit back a gasp, and Dean grinned, smug, taking him in deeper.

"Feel good, angel?" he said, pulling off with a wet sound.

" _Yes_ ," Cas hissed. "Please don't -- please don't stop."

Without moving his lips, Dean reached up again, wrapping his hand around Cas' tender, lotion-slick bicep. 

Cas arched, his cock leaving smears of precome over Dean's lips. "God, you do love that," Dean whispered.

"You," Cas corrected. Without breaking Dean's grasp, he reached down blindly, fitting his hand over the long-dormant handprint on Dean's left shoulder, and they both sucked in a gasp. "Always you."

Dean moaned against the head of Cas' cock, sending sparks up his spine. He trailed his free hand lower, over Cas' balls and between his legs, rubbing over his perineum. "Do you want --?"

" _Yes_." Cas bent his legs, pushing into Dean's mouth.

"Uh-uh," Dean chided, backing away slightly. "Ask nicely, angel."

Cas essayed a glare, but Dean just licked down his length, and his head fell back to the pillow.

" _Please_."

"Good boy," Dean breathed. "Good little angel." He fumbled for the lube, slicking his fingers up without moving his mouth. "So hot like this, comin' apart for me. Yeah?"

Several expressions flickered across Castiel's face as he visibly fought for his implacable self-control, but then Dean rubbed a slick fingertip over his rim, and he choked back a sob.

"More, angel?" At Cas' broken moan, he slid a fingertip inside, just moving gently in and out. He reached his free hand back up to Cas' bicep, tracing slippery trails between the stars.

_"Dean._ " Cas tried to push himself down, but Dean gripped his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_ you can take it. Thing is, I wanna do it my way this time."

Cas' eyes flashed, and for a second Dean was pretty sure he was about to get smited. He added a second finger and dipped his head, mouthing along Cas' cock, and Cas' head dropped back to the pillow.

"Good," Dean breathed. He pushed his fingers in deeper. "Good little angel."

Cas' hand twisted in the sheets, and his bicep muscles flexed under Dean's hand.

"So beautiful." Dean licked a long, slow stripe up Cas' length, drinking in the low moan. "My angel of the Lord, beggin' for me. Ain't that right, _Castiel_?"

Something crackled in the air, and a lightbulb shattered in the bathroom. Suddenly Dean found himself flat on his back with a seraph sinking down on his cock.

"J-Jesus, Cas," Dean gasped with a broken laugh.

Cas ignored him, head thrown back. He fumbled blindly for Dean's hand and pressed it back against his shoulder, letting out a sigh.

Dean tightened his fingers, still careful of the vulnerable skin, and used the leverage to thrust his hips up hard.

"Yes," Cas whispered. He just rocked shallowly, content to let Dean do the work. He reached down to Dean's bicep again, fingertip tracing the invisible outline of his own hand almost absently.

"I feel you," he murmured without opening his eyes. "You feel like fire."

"Sure that's not the -- the needles y'got just stabbed with?" Dean choked out, but he didn't stop the rhythm of his hips.

Cas' eyes opened slowly. He gazed down at Dean with his usual paralyzing intensity, but there was something soft and vulnerable in his eyes, so different than his implacable stare when he had Dean pressed to the bed and writhing.

Dean thrust up harder, and for once Cas just let him, instead of keeping Dean's hips in an inexorable grip to control the pace. He spread his knees, taking Dean's cock deeper still.

"Yeah, baby," Dean coaxed. He dragged his thumb down the triad of stars in the belt, leaving trails of electricity on Cas' skin.

"Alnitak," Cas breathed as Dean's finger lingered on the last star. "A hundred thousand times brighter than the sun."

Dean's eyes shot from the ink to Cas' face, but Cas' head had tipped back again, back arched. He slid his thumb back over the sweat-damp skin, to the second.

"Alnilam." Cas finally started moving in earnest, rising off the bed to meet Dean's thrusts. "Supergiant."

"Cas," Dean hissed. His hips were already beginning to stutter, despite his desperate fight for self-control. "Cas, fuck, Cas, c'mon…"

Cas just locked his ankles under Dean's thighs, strong muscles flexing. His eyes were raised to the ceiling, staring at nothing or everything, and Dean's hand drifted again, trance-like, to settle back on the first star.

"Mintaka," Cas murmured. "A binary star." His voice was raw, sweat dripping down his temples. He leaned back slightly until Dean's cock dragged over his prostate with every thrust, and they both let out twin low groans. "Bound -- to orbit -- another star forever."

Dean blindly grabbed for Cas' hip with his other hand, yanking him down hard. Cas cried out, his head finally tipping forward to meet Dean's gaze He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and then went rigid, muscles thrown into sharp relief in the pale moonlight. Hot wetness spread over Dean's belly, and Cas spasming around his cock finally sent him over the edge, constellations dancing behind his eyelids.

Cas swayed on top of him for a few moments, eyes glassy, still half tuned into the ether. Dean tried to steady him with boneless arms, but he toppled to the bed, pulling off of Dean with a painful squelch.

" _Oof_ ," they complained simultaneously.

"Christ," Dean mumbled, his hand now trapped under Cas' tattooed bicep.

"No." Cas crawled to his knees, angelic elegance dissolved into sex-thick stupor, and collapsed on Dean's chest. "He's a hunter. Not Christ."

Dean smiled into the mess of sweaty hair. He vaguely thought about asking Cas to mojo them clean, but just drew a blanket over them both, yawning as his eyes slipped shut.

"Yeah, Cas," he murmured, tightening his arms around the angel. "Yeah, he is."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://relucant.tumblr.com) or my new and incredibly lame [twitter](https://twitter.com/relucanting).
> 
> I'm nice.
> 
> \--
> 
> I try to respond to all comments (god knows I read 'em); if I don't, it's solely because I am a total space case.


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